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The  Road  to  Mecca 


By 

Florence  Irwin 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and  London 

Cbe    fmfcfcerbocfcer    press 

1916 


COPYRIGHT,  1916 

BY 
FLORENCE   IRWIN 


Ube  ftnfcfeerbocher  press,  Wcw  J2orh 


(A        TlAt 


Co 
MY  DEAR  MOTHER 


21304R6 


The  Road  to  Mecca  is  thronged  with  pilgrims. 
With  eager  eyes  gazing  ahead,  they  turn  neither  to 
the  right  nor  to  the  left. 

Will  torture  increase  their  chances  of  reward? 
Then  let  that  torture  be  borne.  Fill  the  shoes  with 
pebbles;  assume  the  hair-cloth  shirt;  shoulder  the 
heavy  burden.  Feet  may  be  bruised,  tender  flesh 
torn,  muscles  twisted  and  strained.  Comrades  may 
fall  by  the  way  but,  unless  so  prompted,  none  need 
pause  to  minister. 

Ever  the  shining  mosques  and  spires  beckon,  pro- 
mising joy  unspeakable.  Ever  the  jostling  throngs 
press  forward  to  that  promise. 

Is  it  fulfilled?  Are  the  transports  of  the  desired 
city  ample  compensation  for  the  weary  journey?  Do 
souls  there  lose  their  burdens  and  penances  reap  their 
harvests? 

Those  who  enter  Mecca  have  sealed  lips.  If  they 
have  met  with  disappointment,  none  shall  learn  it 
from  them. 

Glance,  though,  at  their  faces;  that,  at  least,  is  per- 
mitted. Do  they  shine  with  a  bliss  that  cannot  be 
expressed  in  words?  Are  eager  hands  reached  out 
in  help  to  others? 


2  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Alas,  no.  Faces  are  stern  and  set  and  mouths  are 
hard.  Eyes  that  once  shone  humanly  have  now 
grown  cold  and  weary.  And  the  outstretched  hands 
are  busy  barring  the  sacred  portals  against  all  im- 
pertinent intruders. 

The  Road  to  Mecca  sounds  with  rushing  feet; 

The  Road  to  Mecca  shines  to  eager  eyes. 

With  mumbled  prayers,  and  hearts  that  yearning 

beat, 

With  minds  that  longing  turn, 
With  brows  that  fevered  burn, 
The  patient  pilgrims  tread,  mid  tears  and  sighs, 
The  Road  to  Mecca. 


The  Road  to  Mecca 


CHAPTER  I 

ELLIE  BREWSTER  opened  her  eyes  to  the  August 
sunlight  with  a  sense  of  something  important  hav- 
ing happened.  The  first  thing  that  she  remem- 
bered was  that  it  was  Sunday  morning.  The  next, 
that  she  was  engaged  to  be  married. 

She  rose  and,  going  to  the  window,  stood  looking 
down  on  the  shady  yard  beneath.  It  had  rained 
in  the  night,  and  the  heavy  odour  of  wet  day-lilies 
filled  the  air.  She  hated  that  smell.  But  then, 
she  hated  most  things  with  which  she  had  ever 
come  in  contact. 

"Ellie, "  called  her  mother  from  below,  "you 
comin'  down  to  help  me  with  breakfast?  You 
know  I  let  Tilly  off  for  the  day. " 

"I'll  be  down,"  answered  the  daughter,  but  her 
face  clouded  sullenly.  What  was  the  sense  of 
"keeping  a  girl, "  and  then  doing  the  work? 

The  mere  fact  of  keeping  one  was  a  mark  of  caste 
in  a  village  where  most  housekeepers  did  their 
own  work.  Some  there  were  in  Allenbury  who  had 
reached  the  heights  of  "hired  help,"  in  the  shape 
of  a  maid-of-all-work  who  ate  with  the  family 
(except  in  the  case  of  company) ,  and  who  generally 

3 


4  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

shared  their  gossip.  No  household  had  ever 
boasted  two  servants.  To  "keep  a  girl"  was  to 
wear  the  badge  of  prosperity. 

In  Mrs.  Brewster's  case,  it  was  the  recent  golden 
crown  of  a  long  life  of  hard  work.  It  was  further 
necessitated  by  the  fact  that  Ellie  Brewster  was 
"no  hand  at  housework."  From  earliest  child- 
hood she  had  shirked  allotted  tasks,  or  had  sulked 
through  them.  It  was  generally  less  trouble  to  do 
a  thing  one's  self  than  to  get  Ellie  to  do  it  and  to 
watch  her  through  it. 

This  was  from  no  physical  disability.  As  the 
girl  moved  around  her  bedroom  making  her  morn- 
ing toilet,  her  lithe  young  body  bore  testimony  to 
perfect  health  and  strength.  She  was  of  a  tall 
blond  slenderness.  "  Milk  and  honey"  would  best 
describe  her.  She  would  have  made  a  stunning 
white-and-yellow  poster. 

In  spite  of  her  mother's  summons,  she  did  not 
hurry.  She  went  again  to  the  window  and  stood 
there  in  a  long  reverie. 

Engaged  to  be  married!  At  least,  that  meant 
the  end  of  this  present  life  which  she  so  detested. 
It  meant  her  own  home,  her  freedom,  and  a  hus- 
band who  was  the  only  man  she  had  ever  yet  met 
who  could  give  her  some  of  the  things  she  wanted. 
He  was  her  first  chance  of  a  broader  horizon. 

He  had  come  to  Allenbury  five  or  six  years 
previously,  a  young  countryman,  born  and  bred 
exactly  as  all  the  rest  of  its  inhabitants  were  born 
and  bred.  The  difference  lay  in  the  man  himself. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  5 

He  was  virile.  He  was  ambitious.  He  soon 
outgrew  his  first  small  job.  Although  he  never 
talked  of  his  business,  Ellie  knew  indefinitely  that 
he  was  putting  out  feelers  in  many  directions.  He 
was  always  dressed  in  "store  clothes, "  even  in  the 
morning;  (her  fastidiousness  would  never  be  of- 
fended by  a  husband  in  overalls  and  boots  that 
smelled  of  the  stable) ;  he  kept  a  horse  and  buggy 
and  drove  around  the  adjacent  country  a  great 
deal;  he  had  an  "office,"  instead  of  a  store,  or  a 
farm — a  small  one,  to  be  sure,  but  still  an  office. 
He  went  away  on  frequent  long  trips.  She  might 
even  travel  with  him  occasionally.  Travel!  The 
very  word  sent  the  blood  to  her  cheeks.  And, 
last  but  not  least,  he  would  certainly  keep  a  ser- 
vant for  her  and  she  would  be  free  from  the  house- 
work which  she  so  detested.  A  young  married 
couple  with  a  hired  servant  would  be  a  sensation 
in  Allenbury. 

Not  that  she  cared  for  the  sensation.  She  was 
absolutely  indifferent  to  Allenbury,  its  inhabitants, 
and  their  approval  or  disapproval, — even  to  their 
envy.  And  that  is  probably  the  acme  of  indiffer- 
ence. What  Ellie  Brewster  did  care  about  was 
that,  after  her  wedding,  she  need  never  again  wash 
dishes. 

The  thought  of  her  marriage  filled  her  with  a 
calm  content.  But  not  with  thrills!  She  was  not 
a  girl  of  thrills.  Thrills  come  from  the  senses,  even 
from  the  heart,  and  Ellie  Brewster's  motive 
power  was  her  head. 


6  The  Road  to  Mecca 

Without  its  approval  she  could  never  have 
been  happy.  But  sometimes  she  wondered,  a  little 
uncomfortably,  whether  she  was  missing  some- 
thing. Would  she  ever  experience  those  over- 
whelming sensations  that  she  read  about  in  the 
books  that  she  devoured,  or  were  they  just  "bosh, " 
put  in  to  please  readers?  Would  she  like  such 
feelings  if  she  had  them?  Was  there  anything 
"queer"  about  her? 

Her  Ego  hastily  rejected  this  thought.  It  was 
a  sturdy  Ego,  perfectly  well  capable  of  taking  care 
of  itself.  Nevertheless,  Ellie  was  conscious  of  a 
vague  discordant  thread  in  the  weave  of  her 
thoughts.  Perhaps,  though,  it  was  caused  only 
by  the  smell  of  those  detested  lilies  in  the  garden 
below. 

She  was  unquestionably  acting  for  her  own  best 
interests.  While  she  might  not  be  able  to  do 
immediately  that  which  she  so  longed  to  do, — 
to  shake  the  dust  of  Allenbury  from  her  feet  and  to 
bid  the  place  a  permanent  farewell, — she  was  cer- 
tainly and  definitely  enlarging  her  horizon  to  the 
utmost  of  her  present  power.  One  must,  naturally, 
take  the  first  step  before  one  can  take  the  second. 
And  with  this  reassuring  thought,  she  roused  herself 
and  went  downstairs. 

Her  father  was  combing  his  hair  in  front  of  the 
dining-room  mirror  as  she  entered  the  room. 
The  practice  was  the  relic  of  the  farm-days,  before 
the  removal  to  the  village  home.  Nothing  in 
Ellie's  daily  life  was  more  obnoxious  to  her  than 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  7 

that  mirror  in  its  gaudy  painted  frame  (red  roses 
on  yellow  wood  with  a  glass  that  turned  you  short 
and  squat,  and  of  a  greenish  hue),  and  the  shelf 
beneath  it  bearing  the  cheap  brush  and  comb. 
Often  had  she  begged  for  their  removal,  but  always 
without  avail.  The  answer  was  invariably  that 
"Poppa  was  used  to  them. "  That  was  considered 
adequate.  The  difference  between  Ellie  Brewster 
and  her  parents  seemed  to  be  that  while  they  were 
always  wedded  to  old  things  and  customs,  she  was 
always  wildly  seeking  new  ones. 

In  the  kitchen,  Mrs.  Brewster  looked  up  from  her 
work  with  a  cheery  "good-morning";  but  a  glance 
at  the  girl's  face  checked  her.  She  knew  Ellie's 
moods  by  heart.  This  was  one  of  her  sullen  days. 

Breakfast  was  a  rather  silent  meal.  It  was  the 
typical  heavy  breakfast  of  the  great  American 
middle  class.  Two  or  three  flies  that  had  forced 
an  entrance  in  defiance  of  screens,  and  the  storm 
of  the  past  night,  formed  the  chief  topics  of  con- 
versation. 

"You  an'  Wesley  get  in  ahead  of  the  storm?" 
asked  Mrs.  Brewster. 

Ellie  nodded.  "Long  ahead,"  she  answered. 
"  I  never  knew  it  had  rained  until  this  morning. " 

It  crossed  her  mind  that  this  was  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  tell  her  news,  but  she  rejected  the  idea. 
Wesley  could  tell  it  when  he  came  to  take  her  to 
church  that  evening.  It  was  more  comfortable 
to  leave  things  to  him.  He  was  so  strong  and 
capable. 


8  TKe  Road  to  Mecca 

There  were  no  social  strictures  to  prevent  the 
girl  from  announcing  her  own  engagement.  In 
Ellie  Brewster's  circle,  no  would-be  swain  ever 
formally  demanded  the  hand  of  his  inamorata. 
A  youth  and  a  maiden  "went  together,"  either 
until  they  grew  weary  of  the  practice  and  ceased 
it,  or  until  they  grew  accustomed  to  it  and  decided 
to  marry.  The  matter  was  entirely  in  their  own 
hands  and  few  parents  were  astonished  when  the 
news  of  an  impending  marriage  was  disclosed  to 
them. 

One  of  the  strangest  traits  of  the  average  Amer- 
ican character  has  always  been  the  shyness  of 
discussing  intimate  subjects — particularly  in  the 
bosom  of  one's  family.  Parents  have  shrunk  from 
opening  vital  topics  with  their  children;  children 
have  found  it  almost  impossible  to  mention  such 
things  to  parents;  brothers  and  sisters  have  been 
mutually  tongue-tied  on  important  matters.  The 
volubility  and  ebullience  of  the  Latin  races  have 
been  regarded  as  a  proof  of  lightness,  and  a  fetish 
has  been  made  of  self-repression.  Happily  this 
characteristic  is  rapidly  being  overcome.  But 
twelve  years  ago,  when  Ellie  Brewster  sat  at  that 
breakfast-table  thinking  of  her  newly-formed 
engagement,  she  would  have  found  it  easier  to 
mention  it  to  the  most  casual  acquaintance  than 
to  her  own  parents. 

"You  go  up  an'  get  ready  for  church, "  said  Mrs. 
Brewster,  as  they  rose  from  the  table.  "I'll  attend 
to  the  dishes.  It  won't  take  me  any  time."  . 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  9 

"You're  going  to  church,  aren't  you?"  asked 
Ellie. 

"Oh  yes,  I'm  goin'.  But  there's  two  hours  yet. 
You  run  on;  I  don't  want  any  help. " 

As  her  daughter  left  the  room,  the  mother  called 
after  her,  half -diffidently: 

"What  you  goin'  to  wear?  That  pretty  blue 
dress?" 

"No,"  answered  Ellie.  "You  know  that  I  hate 
that  dress.  I'm  going  to  wear  the  new  dress  I've 
been  making." 

"Not  that  black  an'  white?" 

' '  Certainly, ' '  replied  the  girl  defiantly.  ' '  What 
else  did  I  make  it  for?  If  I  don't  wear  it  to  church 
I'd  like  to  know  where  I  would  wear  it.  Where  else 
do  I  ever  go?" 

She  flounced  upstairs,  leaving  her  mother  with 
compressed  lips.  Ellie's  clothes  were  one  of  Mrs. 
Brewster's  great  crosses.  Rejecting  the  services 
of  the  village  dressmaker,  who  turned  out  the 
poorly-cut  and  over-florid  frocks,  so  greatly  ad- 
mired by  the  inhabitants  of  Allenbury,  Ellie 
Brewster  made  her  own  clothes  and  she  made  them 
to  suit  herself.  They  were  always  good  in  line, 
shorn  of  all  ornaments,  strikingly  effective,  and 
as  daring  in  cut  as  she  could  make  them.  She 
bought  startling  stuffs — vivid  stripes  and  checks, 
in  place  of  the  flowered  dimities  and  flounced 
muslins  with  the  orthodox  pink  or  blue  ribbons 
that  the  village  taste  demanded.  And,  as  she 
rightly  said,  she  had  nowhere  to  wear  her  clothes 


lo  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

except  to  church  and  church  festivities.  Where- 
fore, they  became  almost  the  scandal  of  Allenbury. 

Ellie  was  not  a  favourite  in  spite  of  her  good 
looks  and  her  style.  No  one  copied  her  and  she 
had  no  intimate  friends.  Would-be  swains,  at- 
tracted by  her  prettiness,  had  found  her  caustic 
and  unresponsive.  Most  of  the  village  girls  of 
her  age  were  married,  and  some  even  had  a  chick 
or  two  of  their  own.  But  Ellie  Brewster  had  never 
even  had  a  genuine  "beau"  until  Wesley  Prentiss 
had  come  to  the  village,  a  stranger,  some  few 
years  previously. 

He  was  a  devout  Baptist  while  she  and  her 
parents  attended  the  Methodist  Church.  So  she 
would  not  see  him  until  evening.  Then,  he  always 
gave  up  his  own  service  in  order  to  escort  her  to 
hers. 

Church  and  dinner  over,  Mr.  Brewster  settled 
down  to  his  Sunday  afternoon  nap.  With  stock- 
inged feet  propped  on  a  chair  in  front  of  him  and  a 
newspaper  over  his  head,  as  a  protection  against 
possible  flies,  he  soon  bore  audible  testimony  to 
the  efficacy  of  his  preparatory  methods.  Mrs. 
Brewster  sat  rocking  near  him,  an  unopened 
Wesleyan  magazine  in  her  lap,  and  Ellie  "guessed " 
she  would  go  upstairs  and  read  until  it  was  time 
to  get  supper.  Her  married  brother  Walter  and 
his  family  were  due  for  that  meal. 

Ellie's  fondness  for  books  was  the  rod  which  she 
held  over  an  unliterary  family.  She  was  a  clever 
girl  and  had  always  been  a  good  student.  Her 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  II 

teachers  had  picked  her  out  for  special  instruction, 
and  had  planned  private  "extra  courses"  in 
various  subjects  for  her.  She  had  even  had  a 
smattering  of  French.  A  book-shelf  in  her  room 
carried  three  rows  of  volumes  which  certainly  no 
other  member  of  her  family  circle  would  ever  open. 
Nevertheless,  they  did  not  call  her  today. 
From  behind  them,  she  carefully  drew  her  after- 
noon's reading,  hidden  there  because  she  knew  it 
would  never  pass  the  family  censorship  of  proper 
Sunday  literature.  There  was  a  fashion  magazine 
of  the  outre  and  exaggerated  styles  so  dear  to  her 
heart,  and  the  "society  page "  of  a  daily  paper  from 
the  nearest  big  city.  Every  name  in  those  columns 
was  as  familiar  to  Ellie  Brewster  as  her  own. 
Week  by  week,  she  faithfully  followed  the  accounts 
of  the  doings  of  those  mighty  ones  and  studied  their 
pictured  features.  She  knew  their  costumes,  their 
jewels,  their  coiffures.  And  from  the  companion 
paper,  the  fashion  journal,  she  drew  the  inspira- 
tions which  enabled  her  to  copy,  more  or  less  suc- 
cessfully, her  own  inexpensive  toilets  from  the 
Parisian  chefs  d'ceuvre  of  her  unknown  models. 

Upon  the  marriage  of  their  only  son  Walter, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brewster  had  turned  the  farm  over 
to  him  and  his  wife  and  had  moved  into  the  village 
w;th  their  daughter  Ellie,  to  spend  the  evening  of 
their  days  in  well-earned  leisure.  In  this,  they 
followed  the  custom  of  the  place.  But  time  hung 
heavy  on  their  hands.  Old  Brewster,  used  to  long 


12  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

farm-days  of  hard  labour,  could  scarcely  fill  the 
empty  hours;  and  the  new  hired  girl  took  all  the 
work  out  of  his  wife's  hands,  except  on  wash-days 
and  ironing-days.  There  seemed  no  excuse  for 
living. 

Gradually  this  righted  itself.  The  old  man,  with 
his  innate  knowledge  of  horses,  opened  a  livery- 
stable  in  the  town.  He  did  not  run  it  actively,  but 
it  was  his  toy.  In  summer,  he  spent  the  days  in 
an  arm-chair  on  the  shady  sidewalk,  outside  the 
stable  doors,  reading  the  papers,  greeting  passing 
acquaintances,  and  holding  long  conversations  with 
old  friends  seated  around  him.  And  in  winter, 
he  was  similarly  enthroned  by  the  stove  in  the  hot 
little  "  office "  of  the  stable.  In  all  horse  trades 
and  purchases,  he  was  in  his  element.  Automobiles 
were  his  special  abhorrence,  and  he  was  never  weary 
of  haranguing  against  "these  here  new  concerns." 

Mrs.  Brewster  solved  her  problem  almost  equally 
satisfactorily.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she 
subscribed  to  a  magazine, — The  Ladies1  Household 
Helper, — and  its  pages  supplied  her  with  occupa- 
tion. For  the  first  year,  Ellie  was  the  ungracious 
recipient  of  the  results  of  her  mother's  labour; 
knitted  belts,  bags,  and  ties,  ornamental  "after- 
noon aprons, "  fancy  dust-caps,  and  other  miscel- 
laneous accessories,  fell  into  her  unwilling  lap. 
Then,  as  these  productions  disappeared  never  more 
to  reappear,  Mrs.  Brewster  gradually  learned  her 
lesson.  Walter's  wife,  Mary,  became  the  grateful 
beneficiary  of  all  her  favours.  Mary  wore  the  belts, 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  13 

the  ties,  the  aprons,  the  caps;  Mary  carried  the 
bags,  and  never  ceased  to  sing  their  praises. 
Mary  learned  new  "stitches"  from  her  mother-in- 
law,  and  together  they  worked  out  patterns.  Mrs. 
Brewster  always  said :  "  Mary  is  more  of  a  daughter 
to  me  than  Ellie  ever  was. " 

And  Mary  fulfilled  her  duty  in  other  lines. 
Her  little  family  increased  as  rapidly  as  the  most 
sanguine  might  desire,  until  three  little  girls  stood 
ready  to  exploit  "Gran'ma's"  skill  and  handicraft. 
These  three  had  to  be  successfully  nursed  through 
infantile  diseases,  successfuly  costumed  for  Sunday- 
school  fe"  tes  as  well  as  for  everyday  life,  successfully 
trained  in  housewifery.  Thanks  to  her  son,  his 
early  marriage,  and  his  fortunate  choice,  Mrs. 
Brewster's  life  was  once  more  full  and  happy. 

Up  in  her  little  bedroom,  Ellie  Brewster  sat 
and  mused  until  the  sound  of  voices  recalled  her 
from  her  dreams,  and  schemes,  and  longings. 
The  "company"  had  arrived  and  she  must  go 
down-stairs. 


CHAPTER  II 

SUPPER  was  over  and  cleared  away.  Wesley 
Prentiss  had  made  his  appearance,  the  news  of  the 
engagement  had  been  announced,  awkward  con- 
gratulations had  been  offered,  and  hand-shakes 
exchanged.  Ellie  and  her  beau  had  departed,  and 
the  family  circle  had  settled  down  to  discuss  the 
news.  The  two  men  sat  swung  onto  the  back  legs 
of  their  porch  chairs,  hands  thrust  in  pockets,  and 
hats  tilted  on  heads.  The  two  women  rocked 
happily,  each  soothing  to  slumber  the  child  on  her 
lap.  The  littlest  girl  was  already  asleep  on  the 
dining-room  sofa.  Walter  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Well,  I  guess  Ellie  has  done  pretty  good  for 
herself,  after  all,"  he  announced.  "I  begun  to 
think  she  was  going  to  be  an  old  maid."  (Walter 
was  in  his  twenty-seventh  year,  and  was  nearly 
three  years  his  sister's  senior.  He  had  married  at 
twenty.) 

"Yes,"  said  his  father  slowly,  "I  sh'd  think  he 
was  pritty  hard  up  for  a  wife. " 

"Now,  Poppa,"  chided  Mrs.  Brewster  gently. 
"Ellie's  all  right." 

"She  ain't  much  help  to  you,  is  she?" 

"No,  she  ain't.  But  she  would  be  if  I  really 
14 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  15 

needed  her.  She  don't  take  to  housework 
naturally;  that's  all's  the  matter.  She's  all  for 
books  and  always  was.  You  know  how  great  she 
is  for  studyin'.  And  every  teacher  she's  ever 
had,  has  made  a  pet  of  her." 

"Seems  to  me  she's  pretty  strong  for  clothes, 
too,"  amended  her  brother,  "if  you  can  call  'em 
clothes.  I'd  certainly  hate  to  see  Mary  togged 
out  the  way  she  gets  herself  up.  Where 'd  she  ever 
see  a  dress  like  that  one  she  had  on  tonight?" 

"In  a  picture,  I  guess.  She  has  some  pictures 
that  look  jest  like  that.  They're  awful  queer. " 

"And  she  does  her  hair  like  the  pictures,  too," 
chimed  in  Mary.  "But  it  certainly  looks  funny 
on  a  live  woman. " 

"I  hope  he'll  cure  her  of  such  nonsense  when  he 
marries  her,"  growled  Walter. 

"Now,  Walter,  I  guess  he  likes  it,"  replied  his 
mother.  "  He  acts  so.  He's  never  looked  at  another 
girl  since  he  come  to  this  town.  An'  he  certainly 
has  hung  around  Ellie. " 

"Well,  she's  lucky.  He's  going  to  be  a  rich 
man  some  day.  He  come  here  only  a  few  years 
ago  to  take  a  job  at  forty  dollars  a  month,  and  now 
they  say  he's  making  easy  twenty-five  hundred  or 
three  thousand  a  year,  and  getting  his  hand  into 
everything.  He's  been  buying  up  considerable 
property. " 

His  father  nodded  confirmation.  "Elmer  Par- 
dee  was  talkin'  about  him  the  other  day.  '  If  you 
want  to  know  who's  the  risin'  young  man  of  this 


1 6  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

here  town/  he  says,  'I  c'n  name  him.  It's  R. 
Wesley  Prentiss.  I  could  tell  you  some  things 
about  him  that  would  make  you  open  your  eyes,' 
he  says,  'if  they  wasn't  confidential.'  I  didn't 
press  him  f'r  pertic'lars.  But  one  thing  I  do 
know.  That  young  man's  as  good  a  jedge  of 
horses  as  ever  I  see." 

"Well,  he  ought  to  be.  He  was  raised  on  an 
Ohio  farm.  I  believe  he  still  owns  it  and  has  a 
sister  living  on  it." 

Here  Mary  spoke  again. 

"How'd  he  make  all  his  money?"  she  asked. 

"Well,"  replied  her  father-in-law,  "that's  hard 
to  say.  That's  pritty  hard  to  say.  He  come  here 
to  keep  store  for  his  old  uncle,  Jephtha  Biggs. 
Then  Jephtha,  he  up  and  died,  and  left  Wesley 
that  there  good  hardware  store.  You'd  e'en-a- 
most  thought  that'd  bin  enough  for  him.  Bin 
enough  for  Jephtha,  all  his  life.  But  no!  Jes'  as 
soon  as  Wesley  got  it  runnin'  good,  he  puts  a  man 
in  it,  buys  a  horse  and  buggy, — keeps  'em  in  my 
stable,  so  I  ought  to  know, — an'  begins  drivin' 
all  over  the  country." 

"I  know  what  he  does  that  for,"  interposed 
Walter,  "he  buys  up  produce  and  sells  it  straight 
to  the  big  cities.  Started  with  eggs  and  chickens: 
'I'll  give  you  so  much  down  for  all  the  chickens 
you  got,' — or  'all  the  fresh  eggs  you  can  give  me.' 
See?  Then  he  sends  it  off;  some  say  he  supplies 
some  o'  the  biggest  hotels  in  the  country  today." 

"Jest  chickens  and  eggs?"  asked  Mary. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  17 

"No.  Not  by  a  jugful.  He  started  with  them. 
Then  he  went  on  to  apples,  and  potatoes,  and  all 
kinds  of  fresh  produce.  Now  it's  come  to  crops. 
He'll  drive  around  and  see  a  good  field  of  wheat. 
In  he'll  walk  and  make  an  offer.  'Will  you  sell 
me  that  wheat  for  so  much?'  Like  that,  you 
see." 

"Seems  as  if  the  farmers  had  all  the  work  and 
the  worry,  an'  he  took  all  the  profits." 

"No;  they  clear  jest  as  much  as  they  would  the 
other  way.  Sometimes  more.  And  they  get 
saved  from  the  worry.  That's  jest  it.  Ke  takes 
the  worry  off  their  backs." 

The  elder  man  here  spoke  again: 

"Kinder  int'rested  in  them  there  cannin' 
fact'rees  an'  glass-works  over  in  Maplehurst,  too, 
ain't  he?" 

"Yes.  And  in  that  new  trolley-line.  Got  hold 
of  a  lot  of  cheap  property  along  it,  before  most 
folks  knew  there  was  goin'  to  be  any  line. " 

Old  Brewster  chuckled. 

"Well,  I  know  one  way  he  got  did,  an'  did  pritty 
bad,  too.  Ye  know  that  half-witted  son  o'  Hiram 
Thatcher's?" 

"Oh,  Poppa,  how  you  talk,"  deprecated  his 
wife.  "Eddie  Thatcher's  a  nice  boy;  he's  done 
many  a  little  job  f'r  me.  An'  he  ain't  nobody's 
fool." 

"Well,  Hiram  tells  me  that  he  flogs  him  five 
an'  six  times  a  week  reg'lar,  'count  of  notes  the 
teacher  sends  home  from  school.  That  boy's 


1 8  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

near  sixteen  year  old,  an'  he  can't  hardly  read 
straight." 

"Always  foolin'  with  tools  an'  machinery,  I 
hear,"  supplemented  Walter. 

"Egzacly, "  nodded  his  father,  stroking  his 
chin-whiskers.  "Clean  daft  about  'em.  Well 
sir,  one  day  he  plays  hookey  an'  runs  over  to  this 
here  cannin'  fact'ree  at  Maplehurst.  An'  some- 
one over  there  happens  to  drop  the  remark  that 
nobody  hadn't  ever  been  able  to  invent  a  pea- 
sheller.  What  does  that  boy  do  but  sit  an'  study 
an'  contrive  till  he  got  one  made!  Cutest-lookin' 
toy  you  ever  see.  Throws  the  peas  up  in  the  air 
an'  breaks  the  pod  agin'  the  tin,  then  down  falls 
the  peas  an'  rattles  through  a  little  hole,  an'  the 
pod  gits  thrown  out." 

"I  heard  tell  of  that,  at  the  store, "  said  Walter. 

"Works  too  cute  f'r  anything,"  repeated  his 
father.  "But  I  shouldn't  think  anybody 'd  ever 
use  it.  Not  while  they  had  hands.  But  along 
comes  Wesley  Prentiss  an'  sees  the  thing,  an' 
what  d'you  s'pose  he  give  that  boy  for  it?" 

"What?" 

"  Twenty-five  dollars!  Don't  seem  possible, 
hardly.  Five  'ud  been  a  fool  price.  But  I  see 
it  with  my  own  eyes.  Twenty-five  good  dollars 
flung  away  on  a  fool  tin  contraption  like  that.  I 
guess  he  got  stung  that  time,  all  right." 

"Maybe  he'll  get  it  took  on  at  the  cannin' 
factory!" 

"Huh!  I  guess  they  got  about  all  the  machin'ree 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  19 

they  need,  over  there.  Human  hands  has  always 
bin  good  enough  for  shellin'  peas,  anyhow,  an* 
I  presume  they  always  will  be. " 

Mary  turned  to  her  mother-in-law. 

"What  do  you  suppose  Ellie  will  do  about  a 
house  of  her  own,  hatin'  housework  like  she  does?" 
she  asked,  with  the  conscious  pride  of  an  admittedly 
perfect  housewife. 

"I  presume  she'll  keep  help,"  replied  the  older 
woman,  not  without  hesitation. 

"What,  for  them  two,  and  her  so  young  and 
strong?  Why,  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing. 
What'll  she  do  with  her  time?" 

"  Oh,  read  and  sew,  I  guess,  just  the  same  as  she's 
always  done.  There's  this  about  it:  Wesley  can 
afford  to  hire  a  girl  for  her.  An*  if  she's  satisfied 
an'  he's  satisfied,  I  don't  see  as  the  rest  of  us  need 
worry  much.  An'  I  guess  they  are." 

Mary  pursed  her  mouth  slightly  in  the  gathering 
gloom.  Her  pretty  sister-in-law  had  always  been 
a  thorn  in  her  flesh,  and  the  family  attitude  of 
forbearingness  seemed  to  her  to  put  a  premium  on 
laziness. 

"  I  guess  he's  a  real  good  young  man, "  said  the 
pacific  Mrs.  Brewster.  "He's  a  church  member 
an'  all  that.  An'  he  has  a  Bible  class  in  the 
Sunday-school. " 

"  Oh  yes,  he's  all  right, "  agreed  Walter.  "What 
surprises  me  is  that  Ellie  is  willin'  to  marry  and 
settle  down  here  in  Allenbury,  seein'  she's  always 
hated  it  so." 


2O  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Maybe  she  thinks  since  Wesley  come  from 
somewhere  else,  he  may  be  likely  to  go  some- 
where else  again,  some  day,"  ventured  his  wife 
shrewdly. 

"Well,  poor  child,"  answered  the  mother, 
"she  ain't  never  had  the  chance  to  travel  like  she 
wanted  to.  If  she  didn't  marry  around  here  she 
wouldn't  ever  marry  at  all,  seems  if.  The  only 
other  place  she's  ever  been  is  when  she  was  born 
out  in  Illinois;  and  then  she  was  too  little  fer  it 
to  do  her  any  good. " 

"Was  she  born  in  Illinois?"  asked  Mary  in  sur- 
prise. "I  knew  Walter  was,  but  I  thought  Ellie 
was  born  out  on  the  farm  here. " 

"No,"  replied  her  mother-in-law;  "no,  they  was 
both  born  out  there.  When  Poppa  and  me  was 
married  we  went  straight  on  to  this  farm  here,  and 
settled  down  and  lived  twelve  years.  And  then 
the  diphtheria  come  and  carried  off  our  three 
little  boys,  all  at  onct, " — she  wavered,  and  her 
daughter-in-law  nodded  sympathetically.  The 
older  woman  continued: 

"An'  I  was  kind  of  wildlike,  an'  unsettled. 
An*  Poppa,  there,  he'd  been  havin'  the  Western 
fever  fer  a  good  spell.  So  we  rented  this  place  an* 
bought  a  farm  out  in  Illinois.  Walter  was  born 
there,  an'  then  Ellie.  And  when  Walter  was  six 
and  Ellie  was  three,  Poppa  an'  me  got  kind  of 
homesick  an'  come  back  to  the  old  place.  An'  we've 
been  there  an'  here  ever  since.  Poor  Ellie  ain't 
ever  had  the  chance  to  travel  like  she  wanted  to. " 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  21 

They  rocked  in  silence,  in  the  starry  darkness. 
A  light  breeze  carried  the  odour  of  the  lilies  and  the 
woodbine  to  their  nostrils.  The  children  in  their 
arms  were  fast  asleep. 

So  they  sat  until  the  return  of  Tilly,  the  hired 
girl.  They  all  roused  themselves  to  inquire  about 
her  day  and  her  news,  and  the  older  man  was 
moved  to  jocularity. 

"  Left  that  feller  of  yours  down  at  the  foot  of  the 
street,  I  presume?"  he  teased.  "Hope  you  didn't 
ferget  to  kiss  him  good-night?" 

The  little  Abigail  giggled  consciously.  Walter 
started  off  to  the  stable  to  get  the  carriage,  the 
sleeping  children  were  roused  and  stuffed  into  their 
wraps,  good-nights  were  exchanged,  and  another 
peaceful  Sunday  slipped  into  the  past. 


CHAPTER  III 

IT  was  mid-February,  and  Ellie  Brewster  had 
become  Mrs.  R.  Wesley  Prentiss  and  had  been 
settled  in  her  own  home  for  three  months. 

Very  long  engagements  were  the  rule  in  Allen- 
bury.  Mrs.  Brewster  did  not  think  anything  else 
seemed  exactly  "nice."  A  prospective  bride  was 
popularly  supposed  to  use  a  year  or  so  in  hemming 
her  bed-linen,  and  collecting  her  household  goods 
generally. 

But  Ellie  Brewster  had  always  been  a  law  unto 
herself.  She  knew  from  her  beloved  society 
columns  that  short  engagements  were  "stylish." 
Moreover,  she  was  wild  to  get  into  a  home  of  her 
own  and  away  from  the  restrictions  and  objections 
that  so  irked  her.  And  she  would  have  been  dull 
indeed  had  she  doubted  the  devotion  of  her  future 
husband  and  her  ability  to  mould  him  to  her  taste. 

She  therefore  announced  that  ready-made  cur- 
tains and  sheets  and  pillow-cases  were  both  cheap 
and  good;  and  that  household  sewing  could  be 
done  as  well  after  marriage  as  before  it.  In  this, 
she  was  upheld  by  her  fiance,  who  further  expressed 
his  desire  and  ability  to  furnish  their  little  home 
from  top  to  bottom.  There  being  no  further 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  23 

arguments  in  favour  of  delay,  their  marriage  took 
place  in  November. 

The  furnishing  of  their  home  was  the  talk  of  the 
neighbourhood,  the  despair  of  Ellie's  family,  and, 
if  the  truth  be  told,  the  greatest  disappointment 
that  Wesley  Prentiss  had  ever  known.  But  Ellie 
was  firm.  "You'll  like  it  in  time, "  she  kept  telling 
him.  "  It's  only  because  you're  not  used  to  it. " 

She  refused  absolutely  even  to  look  at  "parlour 
sets"  of  furniture.  As  Mrs.  Brewster  mournfully 
announced:  "There  ain't  two  chairs  alike  in  Ellie's 
best  room,  an'  not  an  inch  of  velvet  or  plush. 
An'  her  with  all  that  money  to  spend!  /  don't 
know  where  she  gets  her  notions  from. " 

Ellie's  "best  room"  became  the  "living-room," 
and  such  she  actually  made  it.  Eschewing  all 
fancy  papers,  she  had  the  walls  hung  with  brown 
burlap;  grained  woodwork  was  scraped  and 
painted  white ;  a  walled-up  fireplace  was  reopened. 
Flowered  cretonnes  hung  at  the  windows  and 
covered  the  cushions  of  her  wicker  chairs. 
There  were  no  "rockers."  The  heavier  chairs 
were  of  dark  oak,  upholstered  in  brown  leather; 
they  were  deep  and  alluring  and  one  sank  comfort- 
ably into  them.  The  few  pictures  were  in  sepia 
tints  and  were  hung  almost  on  the  level  of  one's 
eyes, — the  style  in  Allenbury  being  for  very  large 
highly-coloured  pictures  in  heavy  gilt  frames, 
strung  up  to  within  a  few  inches  of  the  ceiling. 

Books  and  magazines  were  everywhere.  And 
Ellie  rejoiced  in  a  glass-covered  mahogany  tea- 


24  THe  Goad  to  Mecca 

table  which  might  be  wheeled  from  spot  to  spot. 
Poor  little  Ellie!  That  was  her  chief  treasure, 
yet  no  one  in  Allenbury  ever  dreamed  of  drinking 
afternoon  tea. 

When  she  took  the  house,  the  dining-room  was 
papered  in  maroon  and  gold.  Her  mother  thought 
it  looked  "real  pretty. "  Ellie  attacked  it  as  ruth- 
lessly as  she  had  attacked  the  living-room;  its 
walls  were  scraped  and  done  in  a  solid  creamy 
yellow;  its  wood  was  painted  white;  it  was  bare  of 
pictures,  and  its  only  ornaments  were  some  old 
plates  of  white-and-hair-colour  china,  and  some 
pewter  plaques — all  of  which  Ellie  had  discovered 
in  the  discard  at  her  old  home.  A  low  heavily- 
shaded  light  hung  over  the  round  dining-table, 
filmy  white  curtains  fluttered  at  the  windows,  and 
a  mahogany  sideboard  bore  Ellie' s  small  store  of 
silver — plated  but  plain. 

Ellie  had  devoured  standard  magazines  for 
pictures  and  descriptions  of  country-homes.  She 
and  Wesley  had  made  several  trips  to  the  nearest 
big  city — a  journey  of  several  hours.  These  trips 
would  always  be  bright  spots  in  her  memory.  For 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  had  received  loving 
support  in  her  quest  of  the  ideal. 

From  the  same  city  was  imported  her  efficient 
maid-of-all-work.  Ellie's  first  big  battle  was 
fought  on  her  account.  Wesley  had  gladly  agreed 
to  keeping  a  servant — had  even  proposed  it.  But 
he  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  it  would  be  one  of 
the  native  "girls"  who  would  be  more  or  less  a 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  25 

member  of  the  family.  Ellie  had  opened  her 
batteries  with  infinite  tact. 

"Oh  Wesley,"  she  cried,  "we'd  never  have  any 
cosy  meals  to  ourselves.  Just  think  of  having  a 
strange  girl  sitting  there  with  us,  all  the  time." 

" I  know, "  he  agreed,  "I  thought  of  that.  But 
it's  better  than  having  you  all  tuckered  out  with 
work.  I  can  afford  to  keep  my  wife  like  a  lady, 
and  I  mean  to." 

"Oh  yes,  it  will  be  lovely  to  have  help,"  she 
answered  quickly,  "but  I  don't  want  her  to  sit 
with  us  at  meals." 

"How  could  you  help  it?"  he  asked  doubtfully. 

"Get  a  servant  from  the  city  who  wouldn't 
expect  to. " 

"But  wouldn't  she  be  lonely?" 

"Not  if  I  got  a  middle-aged  woman  who  didn't 
care  to  go  out. " 

It  resulted  in  the  importation  of  an  English  wom- 
an of  forty  or  fifty — an  absolutely  perfect  servant. 
The  wages  demanded  by  this  treasure  were  rather 
astounding,  but  Ellie  thought  her  "well  worth 
them."  She  did  everything  but  the  laundry- 
work.  That,  she  said,  she  "never  touched." 
The  news  was  gently  broken  to  Wesley  that,  as 
Jane  was  too  valuable  to  relinquish,  an  outside 
woman  would  be  necessary  once  a  week  for  the 
washing  and  ironing.  This  he  swallowed  with  a 
gulp,  and  with  admirable  docility,  though  the  like 
of  it  had  never  before  entered  his  experience.  He 
even  felt  a  secret  pride  in  himself,  his  wife,  and  his 


26  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

modernly  run  household — all  because  of  this 
extra  household-servant. 

The  secret  of  Jane's  content  in  her  unwonted 
surroundings  was  soon  made  apparent  to  Ellie. 
It  lay  in  a  big  black  bottle.  About  once  every 
fortnight,  Jane  was  overcome  with  a  "headache." 
These  maladies  were  condoned  by  Ellie  and  were 
excused  and  made  light  of  by  her  to  her  husband. 
She  only  hoped  that  no  telltale  odour  would  ever 
awaken  suspicion  in  his  breast. 

All  respectable  Allenbury  was  anti-liquor; 
Wesley  Prentiss  was  rabidly  so.  No  drop  of  any 
alcoholic  drink  had  ever  passed  his  lips.  Anti- 
saloon  leagues,  anti-tobacco  leagues,  and  Women's 
Christian  Temperance  Unions  were  the  most 
flourishing  societies  in  the  town.  Ellie  Brewster 
had  always  secretly  wondered  at  her  own  disaffec- 
tion in  the  midst  of  so  much  fervour.  No  white 
ribbon  ever  fluttered  on  her  breast ;  no  pledge  ever 
bore  her  signature.  She  simply  held  herself  aloof 
— much  to  her  family's  despair.  She  knew 
nothing  of  drinking,  but,  as  she  expressed  it  to 
herself,  she  "didn't  mind  it."  The  word  "cham- 
pagne" seemed  to  her  a  mystic  and  cabalistic 
symbol  of  wealth,  and  caste,  and  fashion. 

With  the  advent  of  Jane,  Ellie's  life  became  a 
thing  of  ease  and  leisure.  She  could  sit  all  day 
with  her  hands  in  her  lap,  if  she  so  chose.  She 
wore  pretty  morning-frocks  to  breakfast  and  to 
luncheon,  and  always  "dressed  for  dinner,"  which 
was  now  the  last  meal  of  the  day.  Such  a  thing 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  27 

as  "six  o'clock  dinner"  had  never  been  heard  of 
in  Allenbury,  and  it  was  a  ten-days'  wonder. 
Ellie  explained  the  practice  to  Wesley,  most  satis- 
factorily, by  reminding  him  of  his  hurried  luncheon 
hours  and  of  his  long  evening  leisure.  The 
explanation  appealed  to  his  common  sense  and  the 
practice  to  his  digestion.  He  speedily  grew  to  like 
it,  and  thus  paid  further  tribute  to  the  cleverness 
of  his  pretty  wife. 

"Walter's  Mary"  was  scandalized  by  Ellie  s 
laziness  and  her  ideas  of  housewifery.  She  con- 
sidered her  sister-in-law  almost  immoral.  The  day 
was  rapidly  approaching  when  Mary's  inevitable 
comment  would  be,  "well,  I  wouldn't  put  it  past 
her,"  upon  hearing  almost  any  lapse  from  moral 
decency  attributed  to  Ellie. 

It  is  between  persons  of  the  same  generation  that 
jealousies  burn  the  hottest.  Age  may  envy  youth ; 
it  may  also  disapprove ;  impatience  and  irreverence 
may  be  the  return  from  youth  to  age ;  but  jealousy 
seeks  its  contemporaries. 

Ellie's  second  big  victory  was  on  the  subject  of 
her  own  and  her  husband's  Christian  names. 

"The  R  in  your  name  stands  for  Robert,  doesn't 
it?"  she  asked  him  one  day. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  "that  was  my  grand- 
father's name.  But  I  never  cared  for  it. " 

"Oh,  don't  you?"  she  cried.  "I'm  sorry.  I 
was  just  going  to  tell  you  it  was  my  favourite 
name,  for  a  man." 

"Your  favourite  name?"  he  echoed  in  surprise. 


28  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"You  don't  like  it  better  than  Wesley,  do  you?" 

"Indeed  I  do.  Wesley  always  reminds  me  of 
those  dry  old  magazines  that  Mother  used  to 
carry  around  on  Sunday  afternoons.  I  do  wish 
you'd  sign  your  name  Robert  W.  Prentiss,  and 
let  me  call  you  Bob.  Won't  you,  dear?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  suppose  so,  if  you  want  to.  It 
sounds  awful  queer  to  me,  though." 

"That's  only  because  you're  not  used  to  it," 
she  laughed.  "You'll  soon  like  it." 

This  was  her  invariable  assurance.  Her  mission 
in  life  seemed  to  be  getting  him  "used"  to  new 
things. 

Privately,  she  cared  not  a  jot  for  the  name  of 
Robert,  except  as  opposed  to  that  of  Wesley,  which 
she  considered  "one  of  the  countriest  names"  she 
had  ever  heard. 

"And  Bob,"  she  said, — "you  see  I'm  beginning 
right  away, — I  wish  you  would  call  me  Elinor,  won't 
you?  IhateEllie." 

"  I  didn't  know  your  name  was  Elinor ;  I  thought 
it  was  Ellen. " 

"Well,  that's  precisely  the  same  name,  only  with 
a  prettier  ending.  I  like  Elinor  better." 

"It  sounds  kind  of  stiff  to  me.  Of  course,  if 
you  say  so.  But  I  always  did  like  a  sort  of 
short  homey  pet-name,  for  family  use." 

"Nora,  then,"  she  cried.  "That's  awfully 
pretty.  You  call  me  Nora,  and  I'll  call  you  Bob. 
Now  don't  forget.  I  won't  answer  unless  you  call 
me  by  the  right  name." 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  29 

And  "Nora"  and  "Bob"  they  forthwith  became 
in  place  of  "Ellie"  and  "Wesley."  Whatever 
else  might  be  said  in  criticism  of  young  Mrs. 
Prentiss,  certainly  her  taste  was  good. 

One  February  evening,  she  and  her  husband  sat 
in  deep  cosy  chairs  in  front  of  their  cheery  fire. 
They  spent  most  of  their  evenings  thus,  sometimes 
talking,  sometimes  reading,  often  just  sitting  and 
thinking. 

When  a  woman  has  a  single  purpose  in  life,  and 
when  that  purpose  is  a  thing  she  never  mentions, 
she  is  bound  to  do  much  thinking.  To  no  one  in 
the  world  would  Nora  Prentiss  have  confided  her 
overweening  ambition  and  desires.  She  scarcely 
even  suspected  them  herself.  She  merely  realized 
that  she  "didn't  like  Allenbury,"  that  she  "hated 
countrified  people,"  that  she  "wanted  to  travel," 
and  that  she  envied  all  the  great  of  the  earth. 
That  was  as  far  as  the  thing  revealed  itself  to  her 
consciousness.  She  didn't  even  know  that  what, 
in  another  woman,  might  have  developed  into 
love,  or  passion,  or  religion,  or  patriotism,  or 
genius,  was,  in  her  case,  all  centred  and  concen- 
trated on  one  thing — ambition. 

And  her  husband  was  equally  ambitious,  but  in 
a  different  line;  he  was  equally  uncommunicative 
about  it,  but  not  equally  unconscious  of  it.  His 
ambition  was  his  intimate  friend.  It  sat  at  his 
fireside  and  shared  his  confidence.  While  his 
wife  "wished,"  and  envied,  and  planned,  and 


30  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

chafed,  he  worked  and  did.  And  there  was  still 
another  difference;  his  ambition  was  not  so  all- 
consuming;  it  left  room,  ample  room,  for  love  and 
family  affection,  and  for  sane  natural  delight  in 
family  ties. 

Which  would  carry  farthest  and  longest — that  am- 
bition that  knew  no  rival  nor  deterrent,  or  that 
which  admitted  the  co-existence  of  a  heart?  That 
was  a  question  for  Time  to  answer. 

As  she  sat  musing,  on  this  particular  winter 
evening,  Nora  Prentiss  little  guessed  that  one  of 
the  big  issues  of  her  life  was  imminent.  Her 
husband  had  been  describing  to  her  the  trip  he 
had  just  made  to  his  farm.  He  was  greatly  de- 
pressed by  the  conditions  there. 

"I  don't  know  what  to  do  about  it,"  he  said 
despondently.  "I  can't  keep  running  out  there 
all  the  time.  The  place  is  going  to  rack  and  ruin. 
The  man  I've  put  in  charge  is  no  good;  he's  in- 
jured more  valuable  horses  in  the  last  year,  than 
I've  ever  seen  injured  before,  in  my  whole  life. 
And,  of  course,  I  can't  expect  Hannah  to  handle 
the  place  alone." 

Hannah  was  his  maiden  sister,  fifteen  years  his 
senior,  and  the  sole  surviving  member  of  his  family. 

"It  takes  too  much  of  your  time,  and  it  eats  up 
a  lot  of  money,"  agreed  Nora.  "Why  don't  you 
sell  it?" 

"Well,  I  really  think  I  ought  to.  Of  course, 
Hannah  is  attached  to  it.  She'd  be  like  a  fish  out 
of  water  anywhere  else " 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  31 

"But  you  can't  keep  a  place  of  that  size  just 
from  sentiment, "  interrupted  Nora  rather  sharply. 

"No,  you  can't.  Not  unless  you're  a  million- 
aire. I  think  I'll  have  to  talk  it  over  with  Hannah. 
She'd  agree  to  anything  I  suggested,  no  matter 
how  she  felt." 

"Where  would  she  live  if  you  sold  the  place?" 
asked  Nora  idly.  She  felt  not  the  slightest  interest 
in  the  unknown  Hannah. 

"Well,  that's  another  thing.  I'd  have  to  offer 
her  a  home  here 

His  wife  sat  suddenly  upright.  There  was  a 
sharp  contraction  in  her  throat.  Hannah  Pren- 
tiss  a  permanent  inmate  in  her  house?  Not  if 
she  knew  herself!  She  suddenly  remembered  the 
red  glass  vases  which  had  been  Hannah's  wedding- 
gift  and  which  had  found  immediate  refuge  in  the 
attic. 

But  she  understood  her  husband,  and  she  knew 
that  she  would  eventually  materially  lessen  her 
influence  over  him  if  she  let  him  read  too  many  of 
her  secret  thoughts.  He  was  continuing: 

"I  hate  to  ask  you  to  take  in  someone  you  don't 
even  know.  But  she  might  be  kind  of  company 
for  you.  You  sit  alone  a  good  bit,  as  it  is  now. " 

Now,  loneliness  was  the  last  thing  that  Nora 
Prentiss  feared.  In  fact,  she  courted  it.  She 
deliberately  discouraged  the  few  abortive  attempts 
at  friendship  that  were  made  towards  her.  What 
she  was  waiting  for,  she  would  have  been  puzzled, 
at  this  juncture,  to  say.  But  she  was  distinctly 


32  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

and  definitely  waiting.  And  when  the  end  of  her 
vigil  arrived,  she  intended  to  be  free  and  unhamp- 
ered ;  she  would  draw  no  drafts  on  her  future. 

"I'm  never  lonely,"  she  said;  "I  read  a  lot,  and 
sew  a  lot,  you  know;  and,  of  course,  I  direct  the 
house  and  do  the  ordering.  And  I'm  going  to 
study  music  and  painting,  and  French." 

"You're  a  wonder,"  ejaculated  her  admiring 
husband.  "You  certainly  are  a  wonder.  I  guess 
Hannah'll  be  kind  of  afraid  of  you,  at  first." 

"Nonsense !  You  know  how  glad  I'll  be  to  have 
her  here,  if  you  want  her.  Any  of  your  relatives 
are  free  to  this  house  "  (she  knew  he  had  no  others) . 
"But — do  you  think  your  sister  will  be  happy  away 
from  the  farm?" 

"No,  she  won't.  She  never  will.  But,  of 
course,  if  I  sell  the  farm,  this  would  be  the  only 
home  she'd  have.  And  she'd  rather  be  with  me — 
with  us — than  with  strangers.  You  know,  she 
kind  of  brought  me  up. " 

"What  does  she  like?"  asked  Nora.  "Books? 
Does  she  reach  much?" 

"No,  she  don't.  I  don't  hardly  believe  Han- 
nah's ever  read  a  book  through  in  her  life.  She 
sews  some.  And  she's  a  fine  cook.  She'd  be  a 
help  when  Jane  had  her  headaches. " 

"Jane's  head  seems  to  be  improving  a  lot," 
imparted  her  mistress,  resolving  to  invent  a  new 
excuse  when  the  next  periodical  debauch  fell  due. 
"I  believe  it  must  be  the  country  air." 

Her  husband  still  sat  musing. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  33 

"Hannah  has  sure  been  a  wonder  to  me,"  he 
said.  ' '  She  used  to  want  me  to  be  a  school  teacher. 
She'd  have  worked  her  fingers  to  the  bone  for  me. 
I  never  told  you  much  about  the  Ohio  life,  did 
I?" 

"No,"  she  answered.     "Tell  me  now." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  always  discouraged 
such  confidences.  She  hated  to  be  reminded  of  the 
very  humble  beginnings  they  had  put  behind  them. 
But,  just  now,  she  wanted  leisure  to  think.  She 
must  plan  this  thing  before  it  got  beyond  her 
grasp,  and  plan  it  carefully.  Her  husband  must 
be  permitted  to  reminisce. 

"Tell  me  now, "  she  repeated.  "I  want  to  hear 
all  about  it." 

"Well,"  responded  Prentiss,  "it  wasn't  much 
like  this.  Not  much.  There  were  no  easy  chairs 
and  open  fires.  I  used  to  go  down  barefooted  into 
the  meadows  that  were  white  with  frost.  I'd  go 
to  get  the  cows.  And  my  feet  used  to  be  so  cold 
I'd  warm  them  on  the  places  where  the  cows  had 
been  lying.  Those  were  hard  days. 

"Then  I  got  a  job  in  the  country  store — working 
after  school,  and  in  the  evenings,  and  walking  over 
in  the  mornings,  before  school,  to  open  up  and  light 
the  fire.  By  that  time  I'd  begun  to  see  that  while 
saving  was  all  right, — you  had  to  save, — getting  was 
better.  If  you  didn't  get,  there  wouldn't  be  enough 
to  make  saving  worth  while. 

"  So  I  thought  out  a  plan.  The  big  trade  at  the 
store  was  on  Saturday  nights,  and  I  was  going  to 

3 


34  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

try  to  make  it  bigger,  and  to  profit  by  it.  I  asked 
my  boss  to  keep  a  strict  account  of  Saturday- 
night  sales,  for  a  month,  and  then  to  give  me  fifty 
per  cent,  of  any  increase  I'd  bring  in,  over  his  biggest 
night.  He  agreed.  The  first  Saturday  night  that 
I  was  to  run  things,  I  gave  out  that  there' d  be 
a  handsome  prize  to  the  biggest  purchaser  of  the 
evening.  The  men  all  tried  to  beat  each  other. 
I  gave  a  sack  of  flour  to  the  top  man,  and  told 
them  there' d  be  another  prize  the  next  Saturday 
night.  The  women  heard  of  it,  and  I  tell  you  they 
sent  their  husbands  with  orders  to  bring  home  that 
prize.  In  those  days,  you  didn't  often  get  a  chance 
to  get  something  for  nothing,  out  in  Ohio. " 

He  stopped,  smiling  in  reminiscence  of  his  first 
business  coup. 

"Did  it  keep  on  working?"  asked  Nora. 

"Did  it?  Well,  you  bet  it  did.  They  were 
plumb  crazy  about  it.  No  one  ever  knew  what  the 
prize  was  going  to  be.  Sometimes  it  was  a  jug  of 
molasses,  sometimes  a  can  of  kerosene.  My  boss 
wanted  to  make  it  tobacco,  but  I  said  '  no.'  It  was 
my  go,  and  he  gave  in.  Anyhow,  it  was  better 
business.  If  we'd  given  tobacco,  we'd  have  had  all 
the  women  down  on  us;  and,  as  it  was,  they  were 
working  for  us,  tooth  and  nail. 

"Then,  when  they  got  used  to  that,  I  added 
something  fresh.  There  was  a  crazy  jay  of  a  fellow 
there, — he's  run  away  with  a  circus  since, — and  he 
could  take  off  anybody.  He'd  mock  you  to  your 
face,  so  that  you  couldn't  help  laughing  at  yourself. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  35 

I  offered  him  twenty-five  cents  a  night  to  dress  up 
and  do  a  show.  He  used  to  work  up  a  different 
thing  every  week — it  came  as  natural  as  breathing 
to  him.  And,  do  you  know,  it  wasn't  ten  months 
before  we  had  all  the  Saturday-night  trade  for 
miles  around,  and  I  was  saving  good  money.  Two 
of  the  country  stores,  about  ten  miles  away,  went 
out  of  business.  And  the  man  who  kept  the  third 
one  offered  me  a  big  salary  to  go  over  to  him. " 

"Did  you  take  it?"  asked  Nora  absently. 

"No.  But  I  used  it  as  a  wedge  to  make  my 
boss  come  up  to  terms.  He  didn't  want  to  lose 
me  either,  you  see.  Those  were  great  days." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Prentiss  sat  smiling 
back  into  the  past.  Nora,  not  yet  quite  ready  to 
attack  the  real  issue,  must  give  his  memory 
another  jog. 

"Was  that  just  before  you  came  here?"  she 
asked. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "no.  There  was  ten  years 
between  the  time  I  left  the  farm  and  the  time  I 
came  to  Allenbury.  Ten  years  of  about  the  hard- 
est fighting  I  ever  did.  I  worked  so  hard,  I  scarcely 
took  time  to  eat  and  sleep." 

"At  what?"  questioned  his  wife.  "What  kind 
of  work?" 

"Oh,  work  you  wouldn't  understand, "  returned 
her  husband  evasively.  Evidently  this  period 
did  not  tempt  him  to  confidences,  even  with  her. 
"Just  getting  things  started.  I  was  sometimes 
one  place  and  sometimes  another.  Then  Uncle 


36  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Jephtha  wrote  and  offered  to  leave  me  this  business 
of  his  if  I'd  come  and  run  it  for  him.  He  was  get- 
ting old  and  feeble.  I  came,  but  you  can  bet  it 
wasn't  his  little  business  that  brought  me.  It  was 
the  new  field  .  .  .  Anyhow,  it  landed  me  in 
Allenbury,  and  that  was  one  piece  of  luck." 
He  looked  at  his  pretty  wife,  with  a  fond  smile. 

They  sat  silent  a  few  moments,  then  Nora  sud- 
denly rose.  Drawing  a  stool  to  her  husband's  side, 
she  laid  her  head  against  his  knee.  Immediately, 
his  arm  encircled  her. 

"Aren't  we  happy,  dear?"  she  whispered,  as  his 
hand  brushed  her  shining  hair.  "When  I  think 
of  my  little  home,  and  of  how  it  would  break  my 
heart  to  leave  it,  it  makes  me  sad  for  any  one  who 
has  to  do  such  a  thing.  Suppose  we  give  up  sell- 
ing the  farm  and  let  your  sister  stay  where  she 
is  happy?  We  can  do  without  something.  I'll 
dismiss  Jane,  if  you  say  so. " 

"  Indeed  you  won't. "  His  face  was  moved,  and 
his  eyes  were  very  tender.  "  Not  much  you  won't. 
I'd  be  sorry  if  I  couldn't  keep  a  girl  for  my  wife 
and  a  home  for  my  sister  as  well. " 

"I'm  sure  you  can  find  a  better  man  to  take 
charge  of  things  when  next  you  go  out, "  she  told 
him. 

"Of  course  I  can.  In  fact,  I  have  one  in  mind 
now.  I  don't  know  why  I  never  thought  of  him 
before.  He  may  not  do,  but  we'll  give  him  a  try. " 

Then  raising  her  hand  to  his  lips,  he  kissed  it 
lingeringly. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  37 

"  My  dear  little  wife, "  he  breathed,  "my  tender- 
hearted little  Ellie !" 

And  for  once,  she  let  him  call  her  "Ellie," 
unrebuked. 


CHAPTER  IV 

WHEN  Nora  Prentiss  had  been  married  some- 
thing over  a  year,  her  little  daughter  was  born. 
This  did  not  fill  her  with  joy ;  she  was  not  particu- 
larly maternal,  and  life  without  children  had 
suited  her  very  well.  But  she  regarded  the  advent 
of  a  baby  or  two  as  inevitable.  Childless  homes 
were  unknown  in  Allenbury. 

The  baby's  name  was  one  of  Nora's  supreme 
efforts;  it  was  Patricia. 

The  wee  mite  just  escaped  the  cognomen  of 
Dorothy,  or  Marie.  "Escaped,"  because,  with 
the  former  name,  she  would  have  been  known  as 
"Door-thee"  to  all  of  her  immediate  circle  except 
her  parents;  and,  with  the  latter,  she  would  inevit- 
ably have  become  "M'ree"  (with  the  accent  on 
the  "ree").  To  one  or  the  other  of  these  fates 
would  she  have  been  committed  had  she  made  her 
advent  in  this  Vale  of  Woe,  a  few  months  sooner. 
But  she  was  spared  by  the  latest  novel  her  mother 
had  been  reading,  and  she  lived  to  be  the  namesake 
of  the  high-born  heroine  of  that  story. 

Her  happy  father  was  somewhat  appalled,  but 
comforted  himself  with  shortening  the  strange 
name  to  "Patty." 

A  year  and  a  half  later,  when  Patty's  brother 
38 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  39 

followed  in  her  train,  he  was  immediately  dubbed 
"Cyril."  This  rather  surprised  his  father.  His 
own  name  of  Robert  had  once  been  so  highly  com- 
mended by  his  wife,  that  he  rather  hoped  to  see  it 
perpetuated  in  his  son.  But  Nora  explained  this 
very  prettily.  She  wanted  to  avoid  later  confusion 
and  the  inevitable  "old  Bob  and  young  Bob." 
"I  could  never  bear  to  hear  you  called  'old  Bob, ' ' 
she  smiled,  "not  even  if  you  lived  to  be  a  hundred. 
And  besides,  I  want  your  name  to  belong  to  you 
alone.  No  one  else  in  the  family  shall  ever  share  it." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  image  of  a  young  Master 
Cyril  Prentiss  being  wheeled  along  the  streets  by 
a  trim  nurse-maid  appealed  far  more  strongly  to  her 
imagination  than  did  a  "little  Robbie"  hanging 
behind  his  mother's  skirts  and  peeping  shyly  out 
at  strangers. 

By  this  time,  the  weekly  laundress  had  been 
replaced  by  a  permanent  second-maid  who  wore 
trig  black  with  a  white  cap  and  nurse's  apron. 
The  Prentiss  household  was  very  well  ordered  and 
surprisingly  up-to-date. 

You  will  meet  no  more  young  Prentisses,  for 
there  were  never  any  more  to  meet.  Mrs.  Prentiss 
had  fulfilled  her  duty  towards  society,  maternity, 
and  posterity.  She  never  again  had  time  to  waste 
on  motherhood,  prospective  or  actual.  When  her 
small  son  was  four  months  old,  that  thing  happened 
for  which  Nora  Prentiss  had  waited  all  her  life. 
Her  chance  arrived.  But  it  came  so  quietly,  so 
naturally,  that  at  first  she  failed  to  recognize  it. 


CHAPTER  V 

ON  the  edge  of  Allenbury,  and  forming  one  of  its 
chief  industries,  stood  a  big  pile  of  buildings — a 
patent-medicine  manufactory.  It  was  owned  ex- 
clusively by  one  Lamson  L.  Little,  who  had  ridden 
to  wealth  and  fame  on  the  back  of  his  "Liquid 
Liver  Elixir." 

Lamson  Little  had  entered  manhood  literally 
without  the  proverbial  cent  to  his  name.  Now, 
his  wealth  was  written  in  seven  figures,  his  fame 
had  spread  throughout  the  land,  and  his  face, 
(thanks  to  advertising),  was  rather  more  familiar 
in  most  rural  districts  than  that  of  the  President 
of  the  Country. 

A  small  man  with  a  rakish  air,  coloured  and 
featured  like  a  fox,  he  was  always  seen  with  a  light- 
coloured  hat  on  the  side  of  his  head.  In  summer  it 
was  of  straw,  in  winter  of  felt  or  beaver ;  but  it  was 
always  light  in  colour  and  it  was  never  worn 
straight. 

Twenty-five  years  ago,  twenty  years,  fifteen, 
(the  period  covered  by  the  piling  up  of  his  huge 
fortune),  no  pure-food-and-drug  laws  hampered 
ambitious  manufacturers.  Provided  a  medicine 
carried  enough  narcotics  to  still  immediate  pain, 

40 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  41 

and  enough  alcohol  to  "set  one  up,"  provided  it 
was  sufficiently  widely  and  expensively  advertised, 
provided  the  people  could  be  adequately  gulled  in 
its  behalf,  its  success  was  assured. 

Fortune  coming  so  easily,  prolific  showy  spend- 
ing next  made  its  appeal  to  Lamson  Little.  By 
the  immediate  side  of  his  factory,  he  built  a  huge 
and  hideous  green  stone  castle,  battlemented, 
turreted,  stained-glassed,  and  surrounded  by 
ornate  grounds.  In  these,  iron  deer  raised  antlered 
heads  from  clumps  of  shrubbery,  iron  dogs  pur- 
sued them  from  the  open,  iron  children  clustered 
under  metal  umbrellas  from  whose  ends  sprang 
fountains  of  water,  to  fall  tinkling  into  basins  full 
of  pond-lilies  and  gold-fish. 

Nothing  was  too  expensive  for  Lamson  Little, 
provided  it  was  equally  showy.  Rumour  had  it 
that  his  Christmas  present  to  his  cook  had  once 
been  a  set  of  emeralds,  because  she  came  from 
Ireland.  The  inhabitants  of  Allenbury,  knowing 
nothing  of  the  cost  of  emeralds,  swallowed  the  tale 
and  shook  solemn  heads  of  disapproval.  Extrava- 
gance was  their  pet  aversion. 

The  Lamson  Little  castle  once  completed,  there 
was  nothing  to  do  with  it.  The  villagers  walked 
past  it  on  Sunday  afternoons,  and  paused  to  gaze, 
but  none  of  them  ever  crossed  its  threshold.  Mr. 
Little's  two  daughters  made  the  early  marriages 
which  befit  heiresses,  and  moved  far  away.  His 
only  son,  Harry,  after  being  pulled  through  school 
and  requested  to  leave  college,  went  rapidly  and 


42  TKe  Road  to  Mecca 

effectively  to  the  dogs.  He  disappeared  from  sight 
and  it  was  reported  that  not  even  his  parents  knew 
of  his  whereabouts. 

Then  Lamson  Little  struck  out  in  a  new  line. 
He  became  interested  in  hotel-building  on  the 
Pacific  Coast  and  he  found  it  as  profitable  as  he 
had  found  everything  else.  Soon,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Little  spent  all  their  winters  in  the  West,  and  the 
Allenbury  house  was  closed  and  silent,  except 
during  their  brief  summer  stays.  The  patent- 
medicine  factory  was  still  running,  but  it  was  in  the 
hands  of  a  competent  overseer. 

In  that  autumn  when  Nora  Prentiss  was  a  wife 
of  three  years'  standing,  this  overseer  died  and 
strange  rumours  reached  Allenbury — Harry  Little 
had  reappeared,  had  reformed,  and  had  married 
"a  beautiful  New  York  girl  of  wealth  and  fashion" 
(quotation  from  the  local  papers).  The  marriage 
had  taken  place  the  previous  April  and  the  bride 
and  groom  had  just  returned  from  a  seven  months' 
honeymoon  in  Europe.  Harry  Little  was  coming  to 
Allenbury  to  take  the  place  of  the  defunct  overseer, 
and  he  and  his  wife  were  to  live  in  the  big  house. 

The  news  caused  but  small  interest  in  the  village. 
Its  inhabitants  had  never  known  the  Littles  except 
for  a  mere  bowing  acquaintance.  "All  that  room 
for  two  young  people,"  they  said  in  deprecation. 
"I  s'pose  they'll  keep  a  raft  of  servants  though. 
I  hope  his  reform  is  genuine. " 

Towards  dusk  on  a  certain  November  afternoon, 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  43 

a  motor  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the  reopened 
house,  and  two  figures  alighted  and  entered. 
They  were  Harry  Little  and  his  bride. 

"  It's  big  enough,  any  how, "  ejaculated  the  latter, 
as  she  saw  her  new  home  for  the  first  time.  "  Heav- 
ens, Harry!  It's  huge. " 

As  they  entered  the  enormous  hall,  she  threw 
back  a  heavily  figured  veil  and  glanced  rapidly 
around. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  won't  like  the  style  of  it,  Puss, " 
said  her  husband;  "but  we  can  change  anything 
that  don't  suit  you.  Come  over  to  the  fire." 

She  followed  him  to  the  fireplace  where  a  cheer- 
ful blaze  was  crackling  and,  slipping  out  of  her  fur 
motor-coat,  she  sank  into  a  big  chair  upholstered 
in  pink  plush  and  gold. 

"I  don't  suppose  tea  is  to  be  thought  of?"  she 
queried. 

"I'm  afraid  not,  unless  you  want  to  wait  till 
I've  ordered  it  and  explained  everything.  These 
are  the  servants  that  the  Old  Man  got  for  us,  you 
know,  and  afternoon  tea  has  never  been  heard  of 
in  the  Little  household.  Nor  in  Allenbury,  either, 
for  that  matter.  But  you  can  soon  have  things 
running  to  suit  yourself.  We  can  dismiss  the 
whole  damn  caboodle  in  the  kitchen  if  you  like, 
and  get  new  ones. " 

"  I  shall  have  to  have  a  housekeeper,  of  course, " 
she  announced  calmly.  "I  know  nothing  what- 
ever about  running  a  house.  I  know  when  things 
are  right  and  when  they  are  wrong,  and  I  should 


44  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

simply  die  if  I  couldn't  have  them  right.  But 
I  shouldn't  know  what  orders  to  give  to  make 
them  so." 

"All  right, "  he  agreed  cheerfully.  "We'll  have 
two  housekeepers  if  you  want  them." 

"No,  one  will  do,"  she  smiled.  "Harry, — 
failing  tea, — couldn't  we  have  a  drink,  just  as  a 
welcome?  Your  flask  is  in  your  bag,  isn't  it?" 

"Of  course.  I'll  ring  for  hot  water  and  see  if 
they  have  some  lemons.  It  will  keep  us  from 
taking  cold  after  that  ride. " 

"No,"  she  decided,  "I'll  take  mine  straight. 
Rather  a  stiff  one,  please.  I  hope  that  box  of 
drinks  has  come,  that  you  sent  from  New  York. " 

"Oh,  it  must  be  here,"  he  assured  her,  "I  sent 
it  last  week. " 

"Then  look  it  up  and  get  it  opened.  I'm  going 
up  to  dress,  and  you  can  have  a  good  long  cocktail 
waiting  for  me  when  I  come  down  to  dinner.  Will 
you  have  them  send  Marie  up  to  me,  and  see  that 
my  boxes  have  gone  to  my  rooms?" 

"Yes,  and  I'll  show  you  your  way  first.  You'd 
get  lost  here,  Puss.  Size  was  always  the  Old 
Man's  first  idea.  I  wish  we  were  young  enough 
to  play  hide-and-seek." 

"We'll  play  something  better  than  that,"  she 
told  him.  "We're  young  enough  for  anything, 
thank  Heaven. " 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  WEEK  later,  Edith  Little  sat  with  her  husband 
at  dinner.  The  meal  was  always  served  at  half- 
past  seven  and  invariably  preceded  by  cocktails — 
both  items  to  the  horror  of  the  servants.  How- 
ever, as  they  were  all  to  be  speedily  replaced,  this 
mattered  not  at  all. 

Mrs.  Little  was  in  extreme  decolletage.  Her 
beautiful  neck  and  bosom  were  among  her  chief  at- 
tractions and  she  had  no  intention  of  hiding  them. 
Her  husband  looked  at  her  adoringly.  He  had  seen 
too  many  women's  necks  to  be  scandalized  by  one. 

"Harry,"  she  asked  suddenly,  "are  all  the 
people  in  this  place  frumps?" 

He  broke  into  a  guffaw.  "I'm  afraid  they  are, 
Puss,"  he  answered. 

"Well,  good  Heavens,  what  are  we  going  to  do 
for  a  circle?  I've  been  driving  around  this  town 
for  a  week  with  my  weather  eye  open,  and  I've 
seen  more  scarecrows  than  I  ever  knew  existed. 
Just  one  pretty  woman  with  any  degree  of  style 
have  I  met." 

"You're  lucky  to  find  even  one.  I  didn't 
suppose  there  was  that  many. " 

"Well  there  is;  there's  one  woman  who's  ex- 
cessively pretty  and  who  has  some  rudiments  of 

45 


46  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

style.  With  proper  training  and  dressing,  she'd 
be  noticeable  anywhere.  I  asked  the  coachman 
who  she  was,  and  he  said  her  name  was  Prentiss. " 

"  Oh  yes.     Little  Ellie  Brewster,  she  used  to  be. " 

"Do  you  know  her?" 

"Not  to  say  know.  We've  always  exchanged 
bows  with  the  old  inhabitants.  Not  that  she's  old; 
but  I've  seen  her  around  ever  since  she  was  a  little 
girl  and  used  to  drive  in  from  some  farm  to  church 
and  to  school. " 

"Well,  I  want  to  meet  her.  'Any  port  in  a 
storm,'  you  know;  and  I'll  bet  she'd  stand  training. 
I  saw  her  with  a  man  today — her  husband  I  sup- 
pose, for  they  stopped  a  nurse-maid  and  baby  and 
seemed  to  own  them.  He's  not  bad-looking  either, 
if  he  were  better  dressed  and  hadn't  quite  such  a 
sanctimonious  expression." 

"He's  none  so  perfect,"  rejoined  her  husband. 
"I  suppose  he's  very  religious — they  all  are  here. 
But  I'm  told  that  when  it  comes  to  a  money-deal 
he's  just  as  shrewd  as  the  next  man  and  a  little  bit 
shrewder.  They  say  he's  making  barrels  of  money. ' ' 

"  Really?     What's  his  business?  " 

"Oh,  everything.  He's  like  the  Old  Man,  in  a 
smaller  way.  Everything  he  touches  goes  right." 

"  Do  you  know  him?  " 

"Yes.  He  wasn't  around  here  in  my  time;  but 
I  was  introduced  to  him  in  the  Bank,  the  other  day. 
He's  a  smart  chap  all  right. " 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  cultivate  them." 

"All  right,  Pussy;  but  I'm  afraid  it  won't  do 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  47 

you  much  good.  All  the  people  in  this  town  have 
religion  on  the  brain.  They're  red-hot  teetotalers; 
they  don't  dance,  and  don't  smoke,  and  would 
rather  die  than  touch  a  card 

"Harry !     I  don't  believe  it ! " 

"It's  a  fact  all  right." 

"What  do  they  do?" 

"Work  and  go  to  prayer-meeting,  I  guess." 

"How  awful!  Well  it's  lucky  Mama  and 
Papa  and  Aunt  Evelyn  are  coming  down  for  a  little 
visit  to  cheer  me  up." 

They  had  left  the  table  by  this  time  and  were 
having  coffee  and  liqueurs  in  the  library — a  library 
entirely  bare  of  books.  Harry  looked  up  at  his 
dainty  wife  rather  uneasily. 

"When  are  they  coming?" 

"Oh,  in  a  week  or  two.  I  don't  know  just 
when." 

"Are  they  going  to  stay  long?" 

"  Oh,  no.  A  month  or  so  perhaps.  They  would 
be  dreadfully  lonely  without  me,  at  Christmas.  I 
hope  you  don't  begrudge  me  that  small  pleasure?" 

"  Of  course  not. "  He  moved  consciously  under 
her  scathing  gaze.  "The  only  thing  is,  I  don't 
know  how  they'd  amuse  themselves  here." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  that.  Just  give  Papa 
plenty  to  drink  and  smoke,  and  his  golf  and  sport- 
ing papers,  and  he'll  be  all  right.  And  Mama 
and  Aunt  Evelyn  will  get  along  with  their  French 
novels  and  with  plenty  of  motoring  and  Bridge. 
By  the  way,  we'll  have  to  have  a  fourth  for 


48  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Bridge. "  (Bridge,  at  that  time,  was  sweeping  the 
country  like  a  consuming  flame  and  Edith  Little 
and  her  mother  and  aunt  were  among  its  earliest 
devotees.)  "Harry,  either  you  or  Papa  will  have 
to  learn  Bridge,  to  give  us  our  fourth?" 

"Well,  it  won't  be  me,  thank  you,"  he  replied 
more  fervently  than  grammatically.  ' '  Your  father 
can  be  that  victim.  If  you  want  a  little  game  of 
poker,  I'm  your  man. " 

"Yes,  poker  will  do  occasionally,  and  we  can  all 
five  play." 

"Your  father  is  a  rum  sort  of  a  sport  at  poker. 
If  he  wins,  he  takes  his  stakes.  If  he  loses,  he 
forgets  it.  Unless  your  mother  and  your  aunt  are 
pretty  good  sports  I  don't  see  where  I  come  in,  for  I 
won't  make  much  out  of  you." 

"Well,  what  do  you  care?"  she  answered  flip- 
pantly; "you'll  have  the  fun  of  playing.  Harry, 
where  are  we  going  to  get  our  golf?" 

"We'll  have  to  join  the  Country  Club  at  Maple- 
hurst;  it's  only  ten  miles  from  here.  That's 
nothing  in  the  motor.  You  may  turn  up  your 
nose  at  the  people,  just  at  first;  but  they're  really 
not  so  bad.  There  are  several  big  concerns  there: 
a  canning-factory,  and  a  glass-works,  and  so  on. 
My  Old  Man  holds  a  lot  of  the  stock  and  we'll 
have  no  trouble  getting  in.  By  the  way,  I  hear 
that  Prentiss  chap  is  another  heavy  stockholder. " 

"Really?" 

"Yes,  and  the  people  down  there  aren't  half  bad 
when  you  get  to  know  them.  They  have  money 


THe  Goad  to  Mecca  49 

enough  to  travel  quite  some.  And  they  dance,  and 
golf,  and  don't  mind  a  round  of  drinks,  or  a  bit  of 
betting  or  gambling." 

"It  sounds  fairly  good,"  she  agreed. 

That  night,  before  she  slept,  she  wrote  the 
following  letter: 

DEAREST  MAMA, 

It's  simply  awful!  I'm  afraid  you'll  all  die  of 
ennui.  Of  course,  I  know  that  it  is  financially 
necessary  that  you  shall  spend  an  absolutely  cheap 
winter,  since  that  last  awful  slump  in  the  Street. 
Forgive  me  if  I  say,  damn  that  slump !  But  for  it, 
I  should  still  be  free,  and  in  dear  old  New  York. 
I  thought  Harry  was  price  enough  to  pay  for  ease 
and  luxury, — sometimes  he  gets  on  my  nerves  so 
that  I  think  I  shall  commit  suicide.  But  Allen- 
bury  is  insult  added  to  injury.  Just  wait  till  I 
get  my  foot  in  the  stirrup  and  see  me  shake  this 
place  forever! 

However,  the  money's  all  right.  There  are 
oodles  of  it.  It  doesn't  seem  to  have  any  end. 
There's  that  to  be  thankful  for. 

Don't  bring  too  many  trunks  just  at  first. 
Leave  everything  so  that  you  can  send  for  it  by 
degrees.  But  come  with  only  a  couple  of  trunks 
apiece.  It  has  to  be  broken  gently  to  Harry  that 
you  will  be  here  all  winter.  You  and  Aunt  Evelyn 
can  each  bring  a  maid,  if  you  like.  Their  wages 
will  be  your  sole  expense  all  winter,  for  you  have 
clothes  enough  for  a  life-time  in  this  place.  Get 

4 


5°  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

maids  that  can  give  you  massage  and  manicure 
you;  there  is  nothing  of  that  sort  to  be  found 
here.  And  bring  plenty  of  your  kind  of  books 
and  any  secret  comforts  you  may  think  of.  There'll 
be  all  the  drinking  you  want,  in  the  open.  My 
principal  concern  now  is  for  a  quick  fourth  at 
Bridge,  but  I  think  I  have  my  eye  on  a  possibility. 

We'll  have  plenty  of  motoring  at  least,  and  can 
run  up  to  town  whenever  we  please.  Of  course, 
it  isn't  New  York;  but  two  of  my  old  beaux  live 
there,  and  you  ought  to  be  able  to  scare  up  some- 
thing on  your  own  account.  Then  there  are  the 
theatres,  and  we  can  stay  overnight  for  them 
occasionally.  An  overnight  trip  alone,  now  and 
then,  ought  to  keep  Papa  satisfied. 

I  am  hoping  that  before  the  winter  is  over  I  can 
persuade  Harry  to  give  us  several  little  trips — 
South,  or  to  Lakewood,  or  Atlantic  City.  But  I 
shall  have  to  go  slowly  at  first,  and  feel  my  way. 

Harry  fell  asleep  in  his  chair  tonight  and  he 
looked  too  hideous  for  words.  Positively,  I 
wanted  to  scream. 

Let  me  know  just  when  to  expect  you,  and  don't 
forget  that  a  month  is  supposed  to  be  the  extreme 
limit  of  your  stay,  just  in  the  beginning.  We'll 

take  care  of  the  rest,  later 

Your  loving, 

EDITH. 

After  which  virtuous  epistle,  she  went  to  bed  and 
slept  the  sleep  of  the  just. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MRS.  HARRY  LITTLE  was  not  the  only  person  in 
Allenbury  who  had  been  using  her  eyes.  When- 
ever she  had  seen  Nora  Prentiss,  Nora  Prentiss 
had  likewise  seen  her.  And  the  result  of  those 
meetings  was  a  combination  of  envy  and  admir- 
ation in  Nora's  heart  that  almost  suffocated  her 
and  that  kept  her  awake  at  night.  She  had  never 
before  seen  a  live  person  who  looked  so  wonderful, 
— so  exactly  as  she  would  gladly  have  given  ten 
years  of  her  life  to  look. 

"I  met  Mrs.  Harry  Little  on  the  street  today, " 
she  announced  to  her  husband  one  evening, 
speaking  out  of  her  consuming  thoughts  because 
she  could  no  longer  contain  them. 

"Yes,  she's  a  New  York  girl  I  hear;  and  she 
certainly  looks  it." 

In  Allenbury,  almost  the  most  derogatory  thing 
that  could  be  said  of  a  woman  was  that  "she  was 
a  regular  society  woman."  Not  knowing  any 
such,  the  dwellers  in  Allenbury  were  free  to  form 
their  ideas  to  their  own  taste.  "Society  women" 
were  a  class  by  themselves;  they  possessed  none 
of  the  characteristics  of  other  women;  they  were 
without  brains,  without  morals,  without  feelings. 
Butterflies  all. 

Si 


52  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Just  so,  the  term  "New  York  girl"  was  generic. 
It  stood  for  fastness,  and  shocking  extravagance, 
and  display.  To  Allenbury  minds,  there  were  no 
various  New  York  types;  there  was  no  distinction 
between  the  carefully  reared  Fifth  Avenue  heiress, 
and  the  showy  dweller  in  a  cheap  uptown  flat. 
The  fact  that  Mrs.  Harry  Little  represented  neither 
of  these  extremes  meant  nothing  to  them.  She 
was  a  "New  York  girl";  therefore,  she  was  both 
described  and  condemned. 

"I  think  she  is  a  perfect  beauty,"  said  Nora 
Prentiss. 

Her  husband  laid  down  his  fork  and  regarded 
her  with  genuine  amazement. 

"A  beauty?"  he  queried.  "You're  not  seri- 
ous?" 

"Of  course  I  am.  Don't  you  think  she's 
wonderful?" 

"She's  wonderful,  all  right,"  he  agreed.  "Yes, 
she's  wonderful.  And  I  guess  she'd  be  pretty 
enough,  if  she'd  let  herself  alone.  But  she  looks 
like  a  painted  savage.  She  don't  look  decent." 

In  those  days,  the  use  of  rouge,  or  pencils,  or 
lip-paint,  was  the  rare  exception  with  American 
women.  Expecially  in  places  like  Allenbury,  it 
was  unknown.  It  was  the  badge  of  the  Scarlet 
Woman. 

Nora  Prentiss  wisely  changed  the  subject  and 
began  to  speak  of  a  course  of  evening  lectures  that 
had  been  arranged  to  take  place  in  the  Town 
Hall. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  53 

"We'll  go,  won't  we?"  she  asked.  "The  first 
evening  will  be  grand.  It's  not  a  lecture  at  all, 
but  a  concert  by  Treble's  Band.  I've  never  been 
to  a  Band  Concert  in  my  life,  and  I'm  just  wild  to 
hear  one." 

"Of  course  we'll  go.  And  I  thought  I'd  get 
course-tickets  for  your  mother  and  father.  Don't 
you  believe  they'd  like  them?" 

Nora  hesitated.  "They  don't  go  out  much,  at 
night,"  she  objected. 

"I  know;  but  this  is  so  near.  It  would  liven 
them  up  and  give  them  something  to  think 
about." 

"So  it  would,"  she  agreed.  "And  Bob,  would 
it  be  too  much  for  you  to  get  some  for  Walter 
and  Mary,  too?  They  don't  have  many  outings. 
And  then,  as  they'd  have  to  drive  in  from  the  farm, 
they  could  stop  and  carry  mother  and  father  over, 
and  save  them  the  walk.  Anyhow,  I  wouldn't  want 
them  to  depend  on  going  with  us ;  for  the  children 
or  something  might  keep  me." 

He  looked  at  her  admiringly.  "I  certainly 
will  get  them  the  tickets,"  he  said.  "I'm  glad 
you  spoke  of  it.  You're  always  thinking  of  others, 
Nora." 

It  never  occurred  to  him  that  the  price  of  her 
consideration  was  invariably  extracted  from  his 
pocket.  And  he  would  have  been  immensely 
indignant  if  any  one  had  suggested  to  him  that  his 
wife  was  generally  thinking — not  at  all  of  others, 
but  of  herself. 


54  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

The  Band  Concert  was  to  mark  the  first  public 
appearance  in  local  society  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harry 
Little.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Townsend,  Edith's  parents, 
and  Mrs.  Payne,  her  aunt,  had  declined  the  fes- 
tivity. The  ladies  had  said  they  would  take  mas- 
sage and  an  early  bed  in  preference;  and  Mr. 
Townsend  professed  an  entire  faith  in  his  own 
ability  to  "take  care  of  himself. " 

Edith  appeared  at  the  hour  for  starting,  gor- 
geously appareled  and  even  more  highly  coloured 
than  usual.  She  had  been  persuaded  to  forego 
a  low  frock  and  had  done  her  best  to  atone  for  the 
superfluity  of  material  in  her  costume. 

As  soon  as  they  took  their  seats  in  the  Hall, 
she  espied  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Prentiss,  not  far  away. 

"Harry, "  she  whispered,  "I  want  you  to  make  a 
point  of  introducing  me  to  those  people,  when  the 
concert  is  over." 

Harry  dutifully  performed  the  desired  ceremony, 
and  nothing  more  cordial  and  sweet  than  his  pretty 
wife  could  be  imagined. 

"Won't  you  come  and  see  me,  Mrs.  Prentiss?" 
she  asked.  "You  know  I  am  a  stranger  here, 
and  you  must  be  very  good  to  me. " 

"I  should  be  pleased  to  come,"  answered  Nora 
stiffly.  She  felt  awkward,  and  conscious,  and  she 
knew  she  looked  so.  But  by  no  effort  could  she 
make  herself  appear  at  ease. 

"Do,"  begged  Mrs.  Little.  "Come  very  soon. 
I  want  you  to  meet  my  mother  and  aunt  who  are 
staying  with  me  for  a  little  while,"  and  with  a 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  55 

gracious  "good-night"  to  them  both,  she  swept 
away,  leaving  Nora  Prentiss  with  a  fluttering 
heart  and  a  heaving  chest. 

More  than  a  week  passed  and  Mrs.  Robert 
Prentiss  had  not  yet  made  the  promised  call  on 
Mrs.  Harry  Little.  She  was  wild  to  go,  but  she 
simply  could  not  muster  her  courage. 

Then,  one  noon,  she  heard  the  chug  of  a  motor 
outside  her  door,  and  the  ring  of  her  bell.  Pre- 
sently, her  nurse-maid  came  hurrying  upstairs, 
carrying  a  square  of  cardboard  gingerly  between 
her  fingers. 

"She  give  me  this,"  she  whispered  hoarsely. 

It  was  the  first  visiting-card  she  had  ever  carried 
and  the  first  her  mistress  had  ever  received.  And 
it  bore  the  words : 

MRS.  HENRY  LITTLE 

Littlecrest 

Summoning  all  her  self-control,  Nora  descended 
the  stairs.  Edith  Little  advanced  to  meet  her 
with  both  hands  outstretched. 

"What  a  pretty  room  you  have  here, "  she  cried. 
"Such  a  darling  little  home!  You  see,  Mrs. 
Prentiss,  since  you  would  not  come  to  me,  I  was 
forced  to  come  to  you.  Mohammed  and  the 
mountain,  you  know.  And  I'm  going  to  carry  you 
home  with  me  for  luncheon.  Now  don't  say  no  " — 
for  Nora  was  beginning  a  hasty  and  genuine  pro- 


56  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

test — "or  I  shall  think  that  I  have  been  overbold 
and  that  you  don't  want  to  come." 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  which  Nora  Prentiss 
desired  the  more  fervently — to  go  or  to  stay  away. 
It  ended,  however,  in  all  her  objections  being 
overruled.  She  flew  upstairs  to  dress  and  leave 
a  message  for  her  husband,  while  Edith  waited  for 
her  in  the  room  she  had  so  much  admired. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  did  greatly  admire  it. 
It  was  an  intense  surprise  to  her  to  find  such  a 
room,  and  her  hopes  soared  high. 

"My  father  has  gone  to  town  for  the  day,"  she 
explained  as  Nora  reappeared,  "  and  my  husband 
is  detained  at  the  Works"  (the  factory  had  be- 
come the  "Works").  "And  we  three  women 
decided  we  should  be  much  happier  as  a  partie 
carree,  if  only  you  could  be  persuaded  to  come 
and  take  pity  on  us. " 

vShe  chattered  so  incessantly  during  the  short 
motor-ride,  that  her  guest  had  scarcely  time  to  feel 
embarrassed. 

That  December  day  was  destined  to  be  one  of  the 
landmarks  in  Nora  Prentiss's  life. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  her  natural  good  taste  was 
palsied  on  her  first  view  of  the  interior  of  the  house. 
It  was  all  so  big,  so  overpowering,  so  unreal, — 
judging  by  her  former  experiences, — that  it  seemed 
to  her  as  beautiful  as  it  was  wonderful.  She 
thought  it  perfection,  and  she  gasped  inwardly  at 
the  thought  of  the  bliss  of  living  in  it. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  fast  being  transformed. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  57 

Stationary  things,  such  as  wall-hangings,  were  of 
necessity  still  untouched.  But,  numerous  mov- 
able atrocities  had  been  banished  and  replaced. 

They  went  straight  to  Edith's  rooms.  The 
"s"  in  that  word  and  the  fact  that  they  were 
Edith's  exclusively,  formed  "Item  No.  I "  in  Nora's 
mental  inventory. 

Going  to  the  dressing-table,  Edith  took  off  her 
hat  and  ran  her  fingers  through  her  hair.  It  was 
dark  and  curling  and  glossy — excessively  pretty 
hair.  She  had  the  reddest  lips  and  the  whitest  nose 
that  Nora  had  ever  seen.  They  were  startling,  but 
fascinating. 

Picking  up  a  powder-puff,  Edith  proceeded  to 
make  her  nose  still  whiter,  without  the  slightest 
attempt  at  secrecy.  If  Nora  had  ever  been  guilty 
of  using  powder,  it  would  certainly  have  been 
behind  locked  doors.  But,  as  yet,  she  was 
innocent  of  the  practice. 

Chattering  the  while  like  a  magpie,  Edith  took 
a  huge  silver  buffer  and  brushed  it  over  her  already 
glistening  finger-nails.  ("Item  No.  2,"  for  Nora; 
she  had  never  in  her  life  seen  polished  nails.) 

A  squirt  from  a  jewelled  atomizer,  full  of  some 
strange  and  haunting  perfume,  completed  Edith's 
preparations  for  luncheon.  Nora  had  been  simply 
standing  and  watching. 

"Will  you  take  off  your  hat?"  asked  Edith,  "or 
shall  we  go  down?" 

It  had  not  even  occurred  to  Nora  Prentiss  that 
she  might  wear  her  hat  to  the  luncheon-table. 


58  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

The  idea  of  a  woman  sitting  in  the  house  all  day 
with  her  hat  on  her  head  had  never  crossed  her 
brain.  She  now  saw  that  it  could  be  done ;  but  she 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  whether  it  would  be  more 
correct  to  do  it,  or  not  to  do  it. 

She  hesitated.  "Just  as  you  like,"  she  began. 

"Heavens!  It  makes  no  difference  to  me.  We 
are  very  informal  here  and  you  may  be  more  com- 
fortable without  it.  But  do  as  you  like.  It's 
an  awfully  cunning  hat,  and  very  becoming. 
Where  did  you  get  it?  Not  here,  judging  from  the 
shop-windows. " 

Following  a  sudden  impulse  that  she  could  not 
have  explained,  Nora  decided  to  tell  the  truth. 
"I  copied  it  from  a  picture  and  made  it  myself," 
she  confessed.  "  I  make  everything  I  wear. " 

She  saw  at  once  that  she  had  done  the  right 
thing.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  the  first  thing 
she  had  said  that  appealed  at  all  to  Edith  Little, 
who  was  beginning  to  doubt  the  value  of  her  prize. 

"Good  for  you,"  she  cried.  "I  know  lots  of 
girls  who  make  their  own  hats.  Why  not  keep 
yours  on  and  let  my  mother  and  aunt  see  it?  I'm 
sure  nothing  would  induce  me  to  take  off  my  hat 
when  I  go  out  to  a  meal.  Come  on.  Let's  go 
down. " 

Nora  was  highly  intuitive.  She  saw  that  she 
had  struck  the  right  line,  and  she  determined  to 
pursue  it. 

"Mrs.  Little,"  she  said,  "I  have  lived  in  this 
place  all  my  life.  You  can  imagine  how  little  I 


The  Road  to  Mecca  59 

know  about  the  world.  I  have  no  friends  here — I 
associate  with  no  one " 

Edith  interrupted  her  impulsively.  "I  under- 
stand exactly  how  it  is,"  she  said.  "I  knew  the 
moment  I  saw  you  that  you  were  different  from 
the  rest  of  the  people  here.  Now  don't  be  shy. 
It  doesn't  matter  what  you  do  here.  We  are 
exceedingly  informal,  as  I  tell  you,  and  you 
couldn't  have  a  better  chance  to  get  used  to  things. 
As  my  husband  would  say :  believe  me,  Mrs.  Pren- 
tiss,  you're  all  right!" 

They  both  laughed.  But  tears  of  relief  and 
happiness  were  very  close  to  Nora's  eyes. 

In  the  hall,  as  they  came  down,  they  found 
two  of  the  most  wonderful-looking  creatures  that 
Nora  Prentiss  had  ever  beheld. 

It  was  the  first  appearance  of  the  day  for  Mrs. 
Townsend  and  Mrs.  Payne.  Both  wore  filmy  lace 
matinees  with  long  trains  of  delicate  colour.  Both 
disclosed  an  expanse  of  naked  throat  and  bust  that 
simply  startled  the  country -bred  girl.  The  heads 
of  both  matrons  were  marvellously  coiffed,  in  a 
series  of  shining  undulations  that  seemed  as 
though  carved  from  metal;  their  faces  were 
delicately  tinted  and  marred  by  no  single  line; 
and  their  hands  flashed  with  gems  that  looked 
like  sunbursts  to  Nora's  untutored  eyes. 

During  the  introductions,  the  butler  entered 
with  a  trayful  of  small  glasses.  He  first  served 
the  older  women  and  then  came  to  Nora.  She  was 
about  to  decline,  when  Edith  caught  her  eye. 


60  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"You've  never  tasted  a  cocktail,  I  suppose?" 
she  asked. 

"No,"  said  Nora.     "Never." 

"Well,  I  congratulate  you.  I  wish  I  could 
experience  again  the  thrill  of  my  first  cocktail. 
Come,  we'll  drink  to  our  new  life  together. " 

She  came  over  and  took  a  glass  from  the  tray. 
Touching  it  to  the  rim  of  the  one  which  Nora 
now  held,  she  drained  it  at  a  gulp. 

"Bring  me  another,"  she  ordered  the  butler. 
"Always  serve  two  for  me." 

"Yes,  Madame,"  answered  the  man,  withdraw- 
ing. 

Nora  had  put  her  glass  to  her  lips  and  taken  a 
sip.  It  nearly  choked  her,  and  she  thought  the 
taste  was  horrible.  Edith,  glancing  at  her,  burst 
out  laughing. 

"You  don't  like  it,  do  you?  "  she  cried.  "  Never 
mind,  you  soon  will.  It's  apt  to  be  a  cultivated 
taste.  But  you  can't  be  a  sport  and  not  drink 
cocktails." 

If  Nora  did  not  like  the  taste,  she  certainly  did 
like  the  effect.  She  began  to  feel  rather  brilliant 
and  gay,  and  her  embarrassment  vanished.  The 
array  of  silver  by  her  plate  puzzled  her,  but  she 
watched  her  hostesses.  Strange  dishes  were 
passed  her,  by  the  butler  and  second  man.  She 
had  no  idea  what  most  of  them  were,  but  they  were 
very  good. 

"Have  you  children,  Mrs.  Prentiss?"  asked 
Edith's  mother. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  6l 

"Yes, "  answered  Nora,  "a  girl  and  a  boy. " 

"  Oh,  a  son.  How  lucky  you  are.  Now  you  can 
rest  on  your  laurels.  Mr.  Townsend  used  to  be 
dreadfully  anxious  for  a  son.  But  one  child  was 
enough  for  me. " 

"  It  would  be  one  too  many  for  me, "  shuddered 
Edith.  " No  children  for  mine!  It's  lucky  Harry 
doesn't  particularly  want  them,  for  he'll  never  have 
any,  unless  he  gets  them  by  his  second  wife. " 

"Well,  they  are  a  great  care.  And  it's  hard  to 
find  time  for  such  things  nowadays — there  is  so 
much  to  do,"  agreed  Mrs.  Townsend,  quite  as 
though  it  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world. 

"And  my  children  might  look  like  Harry," 
pursued  Edith,  "and  then  we'd  have  to  strangle 
them  while  they  were  young  and  weak. " 

"Edith!"  chided  her  mother,  but  not  very 
severely;  and  both  she  and  Mrs.  Payne  smiled. 

After  luncheon,  both  the  older  ladies  withdrew, 
saying  they  would  "be  back  immediately."  All 
of  these  three  women  smoked  inveterately.  Public 
smoking  by  women  was  not,  at  that  time,  condoned 
in  America;  but  these  were  natural  Sybarites  and 
Futurists.  Nevertheless,  with  all  their  modern- 
ity, Mrs.  Townsend  and  her  sister  spared  Nora 
the  sight  of  their  cigarettes,  that  first  day. 

Upon  their  exit,  Edith  announced  to  Nora: 

"We're  going  to  teach  you  Bridge  this  after- 
noon. " 

"What  is  it?" 


62  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"It's  a  game.  The  most  fascinating  thing  you 
ever  knew. " 

"Not  cards?" 

"Yes.     Why?" 

"  I  know  nothing  at  all  about  them. " 

"You'll  learn  in  no  time — you're  so  quick 
naturally.  You  have  no  scruples  against  them, 
have  you?" 

"Heavens,  no"  (she  had  caught  Edith's  favour- 
ite expletive  in  less  than  an  hour);  "but  I  know 
I  shall  be  awfully  stupid." 

She  was  far  from  stupid  but  she  was,  naturally, 
confused.  Her  three  instructresses  all  interrupted 
each  other  constantly  and  tried  to  tell  her  every- 
thing at  once,  till  she  felt  that  she  was  losing  her 
mind.  Finally  Edith  interposed. 

"Let  me  talk,"  she  commanded,  "you  others 
keep  quiet. " 

She  was  far  the  best  teacher  of  the  three  and  her 
mind  was  quick  to  grasp  another's  viewpoint  and 
to  clear  away  mists.  Nora  put  all  her  mental 
strength  to  the  task.  She  had  always  been  good 
at  figures  and  she  had  an  excellent  memory. 
Finally  she  began  to  see  light  and  to  grow  in- 
tensely interested. 

"And  you  call  this  a  'game,'1'  she  cried.  "It 
is  the  hardest  work  I  ever  did.  Nothing  at  school 
was  half  so  difficult. " 

They  laughed.  "You're  doing  beautifully," 
they  told  her.  "You're  a  wonderful  pupil.  Of 
course,  you  can't  learn  everything  at  once,  but 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  63 

you'll  get  it  in  no  time.  You  can  take  a  book 
home  with  you  and  study  it  all  by  yourself." 

"Are  there  books  about  it?"  Nora  asked  in 
astonishment. 

"Are  there?  Well  rather.  The  whole  world 
is  crazy  over  this  game.  Both  here  and  abroad. 
I've  played  it  in  three  languages  and  a  dozen 
countries.  Kings  play  it,  and  queens,  and  pro- 
fessors, and  clergymen.  It  is  one  of  the  great 
international  pastimes.  The  Greeks  are  wonderful 
players.  So  are  the  Austrians. " 

Nora  listened  dumbfounded.  This  was  the  pas- 
time condemned  and  branded  by  the  village  of 
Allenbury.  Monarchs,  men  of  letters,  the  clergy, 
all  were  its  devotees !  Books  written  in  its  honour ! 
It  seemed  incredible. 

She  went  home  that  afternoon  with  the  instruc- 
tion-book in  her  possession.  They  sent  her  in  the 
motor  and  she  insisted  on  leaving  in  time  to  get 
back  ahead  of  her  husband.  Her  head  was  in  a 
whirl,  and  she  tried  to  make  a  mental  list  of  the 
items  she  wished  particularly  to  remember.  It 
was  something  like  this: 

Polished  nails. 

Powder. 

Perfume. 

The  retaining  of  hats  in  the  house. 

Separate  rooms  for  husband  and  wife. 

The  necessity  of  several  rooms  for  each. 

A  daily  bath  taken  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Voluntarily  childless  wives. 


64  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Cocktails. 

Bridge. 

Rather  a  goodly  list  for  a  novice. 

Arrived  home,  her  first  care  was  to  hide  her 
book.  Then  she  called  downstairs  to  Jane  to 
make  a  strong  cup  of  coffee  and  to  bring  it  up  to 
her.  Whilst  waiting  for  it,  she  scrubbed  her  teeth 
thoroughly  with  a  pungent  tooth-paste.  With 
this  for  her  mouth,  and  the  coffee  for  her  breath, 
she  hoped  to  kill  the  odour  of  liquor.  Never- 
theless, she  ran  no  risk.  She  took  downstairs 
a  little  dress  she  was  making  for  Patricia  and, 
when  she  heard  her  husband's  approaching 
step,  she  filled  her  mouth  with  pins.  Thus 
he  was  debarred  from  a  kiss  of  greeting  other 
than  the  one  which  she  wafted  him  from  her 
finger-tips. 

He  was  very  much  surprised  at  the  way  she  had 
spent  her  day  and  not  particularly  overjoyed. 
But  she  seemed  so  happy  about  it  that  he  hated  to 
be  a  spoil-sport. 

"What  did  you  do?"  he  asked.  "Sit  and  sew 
and  chat?" 

"No,  we  didn't  sew.  We  had  a  wonderful 
luncheon.  I  never  saw  anything  like  it.  And 
then  we  talked.  We  talked  of  books  and  of  travel. 
They've  been  everywhere  I  guess;  and  they  told 
me  about  ministers,  and  professors,  and  even  about 
kings  and  queens.  Mrs.  Townsend  was  so  sweet 
about  Patricia  and  Cyril.  She  said  she  envied  us 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  65 

our  little  son  so  much;  she  and  her  husband  had 
always  longed  for  one.  I  imagine  it  has  been  a 
great  sorrow  in  their  life, — not  having  any.  It 
was  not  at  all  the  kind  of  a  day  you'd  think  we'd 
have  there.  It  was  so  much  more  serious  and 
quiet.  I'm  going  to  study  up  a  lot  to  get  even 
with  them." 

"I  guess  you'll  just  about  do  as  you  are,"  he 
told  her.  "  If  there  are  many  smarter  women  than 
you,  I'd  like  to  see  them. " 

And  he  said  this  without  for  a  moment  realizing 
the  real  extent  of  her  "smartness." 

While  Nora  Prentiss  was  doing  battle  so  bravely 
in  behalf  of  her  new  friends,  they,  in  their  turn, 
were  discussing  her. 

"She's  a  good  little  sport,  Harry,"  announced 
Mrs.  Little,  "though  of  course,  she's  as  green  as 
grass  yet.  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  her  with 
her  first  cocktail !  Go  and  bring  me  a  pony  of  that 
cognac  and  I'll  act  it  for  you.  I  can't  do  stunts 
without  the  proper  accessories." 

When  the  drink  came,  she  mimicked  Nora  very 
cleverly,  amid  the  shouts  of  her  audience. 

"It's  a  shame  to  make  fun  of  her,  Edie, "  re- 
monstrated her  mother.  "She's  rather  a  sweet 
little  thing,  and  she  did  try  awfully  hard. " 

"Make  fun  of  her?  Who's  making  fun  of  her? 
Not  I.  I  like  her.  And  I'm  glad  she  took  her 
cocktail, — it  loosened  up  her  tongue  a  lot.  She's 
a  perfectly  good  little  sport,  and  I'm  going  to  take 


66  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

her  in  hand  and  train  her.  She  must  have  a  Hell 
of  a  life!  And,  unless  I'm  very  much  mistaken, 
she'll  beat  us  all  at  Bridge  yet, — if  not  at  a  few 
other  things. " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN  the  average  American  woman,  passion  is 
largely  replaced  by  mentality.  Her  adaptability 
and  success  are  probably  due  to  this  fact.  Even 
in  the  harem,  it  is  open  to  conjecture  whether 
temperament  is  as  valuable  an  asset  as  brains; 
certainly  it  is  not  as  lasting  a  one.  The  beautiful 
slave,  or  concubine,  or  wife,  whose  sole  attributes 
are  a  perfect  body  and  a  voluptuous  nature,  may 
live  through  many  exquisite  hours.;  but  she  is 
bound  to  know  other  hours  of  torture  when  she 
sees  herself  supplanted  in  the  heart  of  the  man  she 
cannot  hold  permanently.  There  was  once  a 
slave-girl  in  China  who  became  so  dear  to  her  lord 
that  he  promised  her  any  boon  she  might  ask. 
And  she  begged  for  permission  to  learn  to  read. 
She  became  the  Empress  of  China,  and  she  was 
never  supplanted.  Others,  of  course,  were  neces- 
sary to  amuse  her  lord  in  his  moments  of  lightness, 
but  none  of  them  climbed  even  as  high  as  her  feet. 
What  she  had  craved  was  power,  and  that  she  had 
obtained.  Her  sole  chance  to  it  had  lain  in  pleas- 
ing her  lord  more  deeply  than  he  had  ever  before 
been  pleased.  She  had  been  clever  enough  to 

make  him  think  her  more  beautiful  than  she  really 

67 


68  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

was;  clever  enough  first  to  attract  his  notice  amid 
a  horde  of  more  exquisite  rivals;  clever  enough  to 
feign  a  passion  which  she  did  not  feel,  and  to  keep 
her  own  head  cool  the  while;  and  by  dint  of  this 
cleverness,  she  reaped  her  reward. 

Nora  Prentiss  had  one  of  the  levellest  heads  that 
ever  grew  on  a  woman's  shoulders;  she  was  exceed- 
ingly clever ;  she  was  hampered  by  no  conscientious 
scruples;  she  was  cold,  and  almost  absolutely 
passionless,  though  she  instinctively  concealed  the 
fact;  and  it  was  doubtful  whether,  in  the  whole 
course  of  her  life,  she  ever  cared  one  iota  for  any 
one  but  herself.  She  was  made  for  success. 

In  one  respect,  the  Chinese  slave-girl  had  the 
advantage  of  Nora.  Although  she  did  not  love 
her  lord,  she  was,  by  nature,  amply  capable  of 
deep  and  consuming  love.  She  could  therefore 
both  inspire  it  in  others  and  simulate  it  herself, 
when  necessary.  But  to  a  woman  for  whom  love 
is  an  impossibility,  the  task  of  simulating  it  must 
be  difficult,  and  that  of  inspiring  it  still  more  so. 
A  pretty  face  and  figure  may  attract,  a  pretty 
manner  may  fascinate,  a  good  brain  may  interest, 
but  there  must  be  some  heart  to  hold  a  heart.  A 
bluff  cannot  last  forever. 

It  was  fortunate  for  Nora  that  her  husband  was 
just  what  he  was — a  man  of  natural  self-restraint, 
of  clean  life,  of  decent  principle, — the  very  man 
to  idealize  and  adore  her.  His  lack  of  voluptu- 
ousness would  prevent  him  from  making  unwar- 
ranted demands  upon  her  feelings;  his  lack  of 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  69 

experience  would  keep  him  from  measuring  her 
against  other  women.  He  was  her  born  mate — if, 
indeed,  such  a  woman  may  be  said  to  have  a  born 
mate.  The  gods  had  been  good  to  her. 

Nora's  intimacy  with  Edith  Little  grew  with 
almost  incredible  rapidity.  She  spent  three  and 
four  days  out  of  every  week  at  the  big  house;  she 
and  Edith  drove  together,  motored  together,  ate 
and  drank  together.  But  most  of  all,  they  played 
Bridge  together,  with  the  addition,  of  course,  of 
Mrs.  Townsend  and  Mrs.  Payne. 

Nora  outstripped  even  Edith's  sanguine  pre- 
dictions. In  a  month  she  was  playing  exceedingly 
well,  with  occasional  rises  to  brilliancy;  and  her 
tutors  pronounced  her  ready  for  a  "real  game." 
They  began  to  discuss  stakes.  For  once,  Nora 
was  startled. 

"Not  play  for  money?"  she  faltered.  "Not 
gamble?  Oh,  really,  I'm  afraid  I  couldn't  do 
that." 

"Why  not?"  they  asked. 

"Well — I  don't  know.  I've  always  been  taught 
that  it  was  a  dreadfully  wicked  thing  to  do." 

"Nonsense!"  broke  in  Edith.  "You've  always 
been  taught  all  sorts  of  trash  that  you  don't  believe. 
Everyone  plays  for  stakes.  It's  universal." 

"Oh,  not  everyone,  surely."  This  was  one 
idea  to  which  Nora  could  not  accustom  herself 
with  her  usual  rapidity. 

"  Indeed  they  do,  Nora. "  (They  were  "  Edith  " 
and  "Nora"  to  each  other  by  this  time.)  "Once 


7O  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

on  the  steamer,  coming  back  from  Europe,  there 
was  the  quietest,  mousiest  little  Englishwoman. 
She  was  the  wife  of  a  clergyman,  and  the  best  little 
thing  you  ever  saw — head  of  all  the  charity  asso- 
ciations and  sewing  societies,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing.  She  didn't  make  the  slightest  pretensions 
to  fashion,  and  she  was  as  good  as  gold.  And 
every  evening,  she'd  go  to  her  husband  and  get 
ten  or  fifteen  dollars,  and  she'd  play  till  she  had 
lost  it  all,  or  had  doubled  it. " 

"Yes,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Payne,  "and  once,  a 
very  goody-goody  American  woman  expressed 
surprise,  and  the  little  Englishwoman  said,  'Why! 
don't  you  play  for  stakes?'  'Certainly,  I  don't,' 
said  the  American  (she  was  just  the  kind  that 
wouldn't — a  regular  frump  and  busy-body). 
And  the  Englishwoman  looked  so  puzzled  and 
said:  'Well,  what  do  you  play  for,  then?  It 
seems  so  footless!'  And  everyone  laughed  and 
agreed  with  her." 

Nora  sat  looking  down  at  the  cards  which  she 
was  idly  shuffling. 

"Suppose  I  should  lose  a  lot  of  money,"  she 
ventured,  presently. 

"But  you  wouldn't.  We  would  play  for  a 
merely  nominal  stake.  You  couldn't  lose  more 
than  six  or  eight  dollars  in  an  afternoon.  You 
could  use  that  much  without  being  questioned 
couldn't  you?" 

"Yes,  a  few  times.     But  not  indefinitely." 

"But  you  wouldn't  lose  indefinitely.     No  one 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  71 

does.  You  very  probably  won't  lose  at  all.  You 
are  a  very  good  player  and  a  very  lucky  holder. 
When  you  win,  you  can  put  it  away  as  a  fund 
against  losses.  You'll  find  that,  in  the  end,  you'll 
come  out  ahead,  or  at  least  even.  Skill  always 
tells  in  the  long  run." 

Nora  still  hesitated  and  Edith  sneered : 

"Of  course,  we  can  carry  you,  if  you  please. 
But  you  can  hardly  expect  us  to  spoil  our  game  any 
longer  on  your  account. " 

"Of  course  not,"  agreed  Nora,  feeling  very 
uncomfortable.  "What  does  'carry'  mean?" 

It  was  explained. 

"Oh,  no!  I  couldn't  do  that,"  she  protested 
instantly.  "  I  couldn't  risk  your  money.  I  should 
be  too  mortified. "  Then,  very  slowly,  "I'll  play 
for  a  little  bit,  if  you  like.  And  if  I  find  I'm  losing 
much,  I'll  just  have  to  stop." 

Edith's  face  cleared  instantly. 

"Of  course,  you  may,"  she  cried.  "But  you 
won't  lose,  you  little  miser." 

"No,  I'm  not  a  miser.  But  I  haven't  your 
money,  Edith." 

"Your  husband  is  a  rich  man,  just  the 
same. " 

"Oh,  wo." 

"  Indeed  he  is.  Harry  says  so.  He  says  all  the 
men  know  it.  Didn't  you  know  it?" 

"No.  And  I'm  sure  it  can't  be  so.  We're 
comfortably  off, — for  us.  But  that's  all.  I'm  sure 
we  couldn't  be  rich. " 


72  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Just  you  wait,"  laughed  Edith.  "I'll  bet 
you'll  open  your  eyes  some  day." 

Nora's  brain  was  repeating  the  words  over 
and  over.  "A  rich  man."  Could  it  possibly 
be  so? 

" I'll  tell  you  what, "  continued  Edith.  "We'll 
call  your  concession  the  price  of  your  Bridge 
lessons.  You  know  Bridge  lessons  are  expensive. " 

"What  do  you  mean?"   demanded  Nora. 

"Why  lots  of  people — both  men  and  women — 
support  themselves  entirely  by  teaching  Bridge. 
It's  a  regular  reputable  profession.  They  get 
ten  dollars  an  hour. " 

"Edith,  they  don't!" 

"  Indeed  they  do,"  corroborated  Mrs.  Townsend. 
"I  know  a  charming  well-born  woman — a  widow. 
She  has  supported  herself  for  more  than  a  year, 
and  partly  paid  off  the  mortgage  on  her  home  by 
teaching  Bridge.  I  know  another  woman  who 
is  educating  her  son  entirely, — putting  him  through 
college, — by  the  same  means.  But  come  on,  let's 
begin.  We've  wasted  enough  time  talking." 

Nothing  but  Nora  Prentiss's  cool  head  saved  her 
from  the  gambling-fever.  She  had  all  the  ear- 
marks of  the  born  gambler,  except  his  lack  of 
balance.  When  she  lost,  she  was  wild  to  go  on 
playing  until  she  had  recouped  herself;  the  stern 
school  of  economy  in  which  she  had  been  trained 
made  this  seem  a  vital  necessity.  When  she  won, 
she  was  almost  dizzy  with  the  thought  of  money 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  73 

obtained  so  easily ;  the  same  stern  school  explained 
this  feeling. 

She  drove  home  that  night  with  her  head  in  a 
whirl.  Card-combinations  danced  before  her  eyes, 
her  cheeks  burned,  her  head  ached  furiously. 
Back  of  everything  sounded  one  insistent  little 
note:  "Your  husband  is  a  rich  man.  You'll  open 
your  eyes  some  day."  Could  it  be  true?  Oh, 
could  it? 

There  was  something  that  for  a  long  time  had 
been  growing  more  and  more  clear  to  her.  Her 
new  life  would  do  her  no  good  if  she  were  forced  to 
live  it  in  secret,  and  outside  her  own  home.  In 
order  to  get  any  benefit  from  it,  she  must  make  it 
her  real  life.  She  must  convert  her  husband.  She 
must  bring  up  her  children  as  she  wanted  them 
brought  up. 

How  could  she  accomplish  such  a  revolution? 
Warm  as  were  her  husband's  devotion  and  admira- 
tion, great  as  was  her  influence  over  him,  this  was 
another  matter.  His  principles  were  adamant. 

For  days  she  wandered  around  nervously,  try- 
ing to  screw  her  courage  to  the  sticking-point. 
Over  and  over  again,  she  rehearsed  happy  openings 
and  conclusive  arguments.  Vainly  did  she  assure 
herself  that  she  "could  do  anything  with  him." 
In  her  heart  she  knew  that  she  had  set  her- 
self a  Herculean  task.  Nevertheless,  it  must  be 
performed.  From  that  main  fact  she  never 
swerved. 

She   girded   herself  for   the  fray,   and   finally 


74  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

opened  her  batteries  one  evening  as  they  sat  side 
by  side  before  the  open  fire. 

"Shall  I  read  to  you  while  you  sew?"  he  asked. 

"No,  not  to  night.  I  don't  feel  like  listening. 
Bob,  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  something." 

"Well,"  he  said,  turning  attentively.  Then, 
catching  sight  of  her  face,  "there's  nothing  the 
matter,  is  there,  Nora?" 

"No,  of  course  not.  What  should  be  the 
matter?" 

"Why,  nothing.  Only  you  haven't  seemed 
like  yourself  lately.  Perhaps  I've  imagined  it, 
though. " 

"No,  you  haven't  imagined  it.  I  have  been 
worrying  because  I  am  sure  we  are  spoiling  our 
lives  and  ruining  our  future,"  she  replied  breath- 
lessly, taking  her  courage  in  both  hands  and  rush- 
ing to  the  fray. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Nora?"  he  asked,  as- 
tounded at  her  vehemence. 

"I  mean  this.  We  are  different  from  the  rest 
of  the  people  in  this  town,  aren't  we?  Why  did 
you  pick  me  out  for  your  wife?  Because  I  wasn't 
like  the  rest  of  the  girls  here.  Why  did  I  choose 
you?  Because  you  were  the  only  person  I  had 
ever  seen  who  suited  me.  I  have  never  had  a  real 
friend,  male  or  female,  in  my  whole  life.  Only  you. 
And  yet  we  sit  here  and  let  our  lives  be  spoiled 
and  stunted  by  the  standards  of  people  that  we 
don't  even  like.  We  live  in  fear  of  them.  We 
won't  risk  their  criticism.  It  isn't  right!" 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  75 

He  was  listening  in  amazement.  "I  don't 
understand.  What  do  you  mean?  "  he  interrupted. 

"  Since  I've  seen  people  of  a  different  kind, "  she 
continued  rapidly  (she  was  afraid  to  pause),  "I 
realize  how  many  perfectly  harmless  amusements 
we  deny  ourselves,  unnecessarily.  I  see  how  we 
have  taken  the  opinions  of  other  people,  ready- 
made,  just  from  habit,  without  reasoning  things 
out  for  ourselves.  If  a  thing  is  harmless,  if  it  is 
not  wicked,  and  if  it  is  pleasant,  I  want  to  be  free  to 
doit." 

"What  are  you  driving  at,  Nora?"  he  asked 
quietly.  "Tell  me  plainly,  without  so  much 
beating  around  the  bush." 

"Very  well,  then.  What  harm  would  there  be 
in  my  learning  to  play  a  game  of  cards?" 

"Cards?"  he  echoed. 

"Yes,  cards.  Why  may  I  not  play  them,  as 
other  people  do?" 

He  stiffened.  Then  he  began  to  speak  bitterly* 
"I  knew  it  would  come,  sooner  or  later,"  he  said. 
"This  is  the  result  of  associating  with  people  of 
loose  principles.  I  was  wrong  to  let  it  go  on.  I 
should  have  stopped  it  long  ago.  But  you  seemed 
so  bright  and  happy — you  had  had  such  a  lonely 
life — that  I  hated  to  interfere.  I  was  wrong. " 

"The  people  I  have  been  seeing,"  she  assured 
him  coldly,  "have  done  me  no  harm.  They  are 
refined  and  educated  people;  people  who  travel, 
and  think,  and  read.  I  have  always  known  that 
my  life  was  narrowed  unnecessarily,  and,  of  late, 


76  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

I  have  been  thinking  a  little  for  myself.  My  new 
friends  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Tell  me, — 
just  what  is  the  harm  in  cards?" 

"They  are  the  devil's  playthings,"  he  began 
sententiously. 

"Trash!    Words  that  mean  nothing." 

"Cards  are  a  waste  of  time." 

"  That  is  no  reason.  They  are  no  more  a  waste 
of  time  than  that  hideous  crocheted  bed-spread 
that  Walter's  Mary  has  been  making  for  years; 
and  everyone  thinks  she  is  very  smart  to  do  it." 

"Cards  have  caused  much  misery  and  ruin  in 
the  world.  They  have  driven  men  to  suicide." 

"I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  I'll  bet  half  of 
that  stuff  is  made  up,  and  the  other  half  is  a  lie, 
probably.  What  do  we  know  about  such  things, 
anyhow?  They've  been  told  us  by  a  pack  of  old 
grannies  and  we've  swallowed  them  for  gospel 
truth.  Now,  you  listen  to  me.  Our  own  friends 
sometimes  play  cards — only  a  different  kind. 
Mary's  sisters  and  brothers  play  'Authors,' 
and  that  spelling-game,  and  nobody  minds. 
Very  well.  .  .  .  There  is  another  game — 
Bridge,  they  call  it — that  teaches  you  ten  times 
as  much  about  figures  as  those  old  games  ever 
could  about  spelling.  It  is  a  science,  a  mental 
training,  a  .  .  . " 

"Bosh,"  he  interrupted. 

"It  is!  Books  have  been  written  about  it.  It 
is  played  by  kings  and  queens  and  ministers,  and 
professors ' ' 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  77 

The  words  had  a  familiar  ring  which  he  could  not 
trace  to  its  source.  "I  can  easily  see  how  little 
your  new  friends  have  influenced  your  opinions, " 
he  responded  with  sarcasm. 

"Never  mind  that,"  she  answered.  "My  new 
friends  have  nothing  to  do  with  this  conversation. 
I  know  what  I  am  talking  about.  There  are 
teachers  of  this  game  who  support  themselves 
entirely  by  their  teaching.  There  are  widows  who 
have  paid  off  the  mortgages  on  their  homes. 
There  are  mothers  who  are  putting  their  sons 
through  school  and  college." 

"Tainted  money,"  he  cried.  "Vile  money! 
Far  better  let  a  boy  go  through  the  public  school 
and  then  fend  for  himself,  than  support  him  by  the 
wages  of  sin." 

"Tainted  money,  nothing!"  she  retorted.  She 
was  becoming  coarser  as  she  grew  excited.  "You 
make  me  sick!  How  does  any  one  make  money? 
How  do  you  make  yours?  Did  you  never  drive  a 
man  into  a  corner  and  take  advantage  of  him? 
Did  you  never  buy  cheap  and  sell  dear?  Did  you 
never  squeeze  money  out  of  someone  weaker  than 
yourself?" 

He  winced,  and  his  eyes  fell.  She  was  quick  to 
see  her  advantage,  and  to  follow  it. 

"That's  gambling,  if  you  like,"  she  cried. 
"Gambling!  Only  there's  a  prettier  name  for  it. 
'Business'  sounds  better.  And  then  you  dare  to 
turn  up  your  nose  at  people  who  play  an  innocent 
game  of  cards.  Cards  don't  have  to  be  played  for 


78  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

money.  Just  because  a  few  persons  use  cards  for 
gambling,  then  you  think  no  one  should  ever  touch 
them — no  one  should  ever  have  any  pleasure — 

Suddenly  she  burst  into  a  furious  storm  of 
weeping  and  flung  herself,  face  downward,  on  the 
sofa. 

In  more  than  three  years  of  married  life,  Robert 
Prentiss  had  never  seen  his  wife  cry.  This,  in- 
deed, was  their  first  real  difference.  He  was 
startled;  he  was  genuinely  frightened. 

Getting  up  from  his  chair,  he  approached  the 
sofa  and  attempted  some  awkward  overtures  of 
peace. 

"There,  Nora,"  he  soothed,  "don't  take  on 
^^ » 

"Let  me  alone,"  she  sobbed.  "Don't  touch 
me."  Then  suddenly  sitting  upright,  she  looked 
at  him  with  blazing  eyes.  ' '  Why  should  you  choose 
my  occupations?"  she  cried,  "any  more  than  I 
should  choose  yours?  Do  I  interfere?  Have  you 
never  done  anything  at  which  I  might  point  a 
finger?  Leave  me  my  conscience,  and  you  look 
after  your  own.  Perhaps  it  needs  it,"  and  she 
flung  herself  from  the  room  and  upstairs. 

He  sat  in  front  of  the  fire  alone.  At  first,  his 
indignation  was  hot  against  her.  Then,  his  mind 
being  just,  it  turned  uncomfortably  on  some  of  her 
words.  Were  his  hands  indeed  clean? 

What  about  that  boy  and  his  pea-sheller?  The 
fact  that  twenty-five  dollars  seemed  a  fortune  to 
him  was  no  excuse.  That  piece  of  machinery 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  79 

meant  thousands  of  dollars  to  its  owner,  as  Robert 
Prentiss  well  knew.  He  had  known  it  when  he 
had  made  the  bargain. 

What  about  that  land  along  the  new  trolley-line? 
Hadn't  he  bought,  for  an  ordinary  price,  land  that 
he  alone  knew  was  soon  to  have  an  extraordinary 
value?  Some  of  it  had  been  bought  from  poor 
widows,  too.  That  was  business,  of  course. 
Everyone  did  it.  Without  such  deals,  a  man  could 
hardly  hope  for  big  success.  If  he  didn't  do  it, 
someone  else  would  (the  old  excuse).  But,  after 
all,  was  it  right?  Was  not  a  man  a  pretty  stiff 
hypocrite  to  play  his  business-game  for  all  that  it 
was  worth,  and  then  to  dare  to  condemn  a  game  of 
cards?  After  all,  as  Nora  said,  putting  old  pre- 
judices aside,  what  special  harm  could  there  be  in 
a  game  of  cards  that  was  not  played  for  money? 

He  spent  a  rather  uncomfortable  hour  and,  at 
the  end  of  it,  he  decided  that  as  Nora  was  evidently 
not  coming  down  again,  he  might  as  well  go  to  bed. 

He  closed  the  house,  extinguished  the  lights,  and 
tiptoed  upstairs  and  into  the  bedroom.  It  was 
empty.  Nora  had  gone  for  the  night  into  the 
children's  room. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  married  life,  Robert 
Prentiss  spent  the  night  alone  in  his  own  house. 
And,  sleep  refusing  to  visit  him,  he  had  plenty  of 
time  to  think. 

The  next  morning,  Nora  appeared,  pale,  and 
with  swollen  eyelids,  but  quiet  and  gentle  in 


8o  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

manner.  With  the  natural  repression  of  their 
class,  both  she  and  her  husband  refrained  from 
mentioning  the  events  of  the  previous  evening. 
Breakfast  was  constrained;  so  was  the  entire  day 
and  the  one  that  followed. 

Then,  on  the  evening  of  that  second  day,  Pren- 
tiss  walked  up  to  his  wife,  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"Little  wife,"  he  whispered,  "let  us  make  it 
up." 

She  turned  her  face  to  his  breast,  and  wept 
softly.  After  a  moment : 

"And  you  think  I  am  right?"  she  questioned. 
"I  may  decide  things  according  to  my  own 
conscience?" 

"Yes,"  he  answered  with  an  effort,  "yes,  I  have 
no  right  to  try  to  live  your  life.  But  Nora,  watch 
yourself!  Don't  let  your  eyes  be  blinded  by 
glitter  and  glare.  And,  if  you  decide  to  learn  this 
game,  for  God's  sake  never  let  the  old  folks  know 
of  it.  It  would  break  their  hearts. " 

"I  know,"  she  agreed.  "Nothing  would  make 
me  hurt  them  so. " 

She  raised  her  lips  to  his  kiss.  Her  battle  was 
won. 


CHAPTER   IX 

TENDER  though  Nora  Prentiss  was  of  her  par- 
ents' feelings,  there  were  those  who  were  not  so 
thoughtful. 

Her  brother  had  a  "hired  man"  whose  cousin 
was  in  the  office  department  of  the  patent-medi- 
cine factory.  Edith  Little  occasionally  ran  in 
there  to  speak  to  her  husband  about  something 
and,  at  such  times,  names  and  facts  were  freely 
mentioned — discretion  not  being  Edith's  besetting 
virtue.  Also,  she  had  always  looked  upon  her 
inferiors  as  mere  background,  not  as  human  beings. 
She  often  told  tales  before  her  butler  that  made 
Nora's  cheeks  burn  and  her  eyes  fall  to  her  plate, 
in  embarrassment. 

This  trait  of  Edith's  was  now  to  bear  its  natural 
consequences  in  a  village  where  there  was  little 
source  of  excitement,  where  everyone  knew  every- 
one else,  and  where  there  was  ample  leisure  for 
gossip.  In  the  average  small  village,  gossip  takes 
the  place  of  opera,  theatres,  horse-shows,  dinners, 
balls,  everything! 

Nora  Prentiss  was  sitting  in  her  bedroom  sewing, 
one  afternoon  (Edith  and  her  family  having  run 
off  to  Lakewood  for  a  few  days),  when  she  glanced 

6  8l 


82  THe  Goad  to  Mecca 

out  and  saw  her  sister-in-law  approaching  the 
house.  At  once  she  scented  trouble.  "Walter's 
Mary"  had  not  crossed  her  threshold  in  months. 

Nora  went  downstairs  to  find  her  visitor  seated 
stiffly,  with  compressed  lips,  an  unwonted  colour 
blazing  in  her  cheeks. 

"How  do  you  do,  Ellie,"  she  said.  (Nora's 
family  had  never  accepted  her  new  name.)  Then, 
after  a  slight,  awkward  pause,  she  continued: 

"Ellie,  I  thought  I'd  best  come  to  you  about 
a  story  I've  been  hearing.  I  always  believe  in 
going  straight  to  headquarters. " 

She  stopped  and  seemed  to  find  it  difficult  to 
continue.  Nora  gave  her  no  help.  Finally, 
Mary  resumed: 

"  It's  all  over  town  about  your  running  so  much 
with  these  here  Littles;  as  thick  as  thieves  with 
them.  Folks  say  they  live  something  scandalous — 
what  with  drinking  and  all.  And,  of  course,  its 
very  different  from  what  you  was  raised  to. 
And, — I  don't  hardly  believe  it, — but  they  say 
you've  taken  to  card-playing.  I  presume  it 
ain't  so?" 

"  It  is  true, ' '  answered  Nora  quietly.  There  was 
a  steely  glitter  in  her  eyes. 

"True?"  echoed  Mary.  Her  voice  sounded 
almost  exultant.  "  I  wouldn't  of  believed  it,  Ellie, 
if  I  didn't  have  it  from  your  own  lips.  What 
would  Wesley  say  to  that,  if  he  heard  of  it, — and 
him  such  a  church  member?" 

"He  knows  of  it.     He  is  perfectly  willing  that 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  83 

I  should  play  cards. "  (Oh,  how  wise  she  had  been 
to  tell  him!) 

This  took  the  wind  from  Mary's  sails.  She  had 
expected  to  hold  possible  exposure  over  Nora. 

"Well,  all  I  can  say  is,  it's  funny  doings  for 
church  members,"  she  cried  shrilly.  "It's  a  new 
tale  to  hear  of  them,  mixing  with  the  children  of 
Satan." 

"  I'm  not  a  church  member,  Mary,  as  you  know. 
And  my  husband,  who  is,  doesn't  play  cards.  So 
that  rather  spoils  your  argument,  doesn't  it?" 

Mary  was  on  her  feet  by  this  time.  "  I'm  going 
straight  to  Mother  Brewster  with  this  thing, "  she 
announced.  "I'm  sorry  that  I  should  live  to  see 
the  day  that  her  heart  was  broke — 

"Why  tell  her,  if  you  feel  that  way  about  it? " 

"Tell  her?  Do  you  suppose  she  won't  hear  it? 
It's  best  she  should  have  it  from  one  of  her  own 
family  than  from  the  lips  of  a  stranger." 

Suddenly  the  pent-up  feelings  of  years  burst 
their  bonds.  Mary  shook,  as  with  an  ague : 

"You,"  she  cried.  "  You!  To  call  yourself  a 
good  woman!  A  decent  woman!  Raised  as  you 
was!  Taught  religion  from  your  cradle  up!  A 
nice  daughter  you  are,  and  a  nice  wife,  and  a  nice 
mother!  Off  playing  cards  and  gallivanting  with 
people  who,  like  as  not,  make  fun  of  you  behind 
your  back,  while  your  house  and  your  family  may 
go  to  rack  and  ruin !  Your  children  all  dressed  up 
like  they  was  millionaires  or  princes,  with  a  hired 
nurse  to  mind  them,  and  them  not  knowing  their 


84  TKe  Road  to  Mecca 

own  cousins  by  sight,  hardly.  Mark  my  words, 
Ellie  Brewster,  the  day  will  come  when  you  will  see 
the  error  of  your  ways,  when  your  heart  will  cry 
shame  on  the  life  you've  been  leading!" 

She  had  reached  the  front  door  by  this  time, 
and  had  opened  it.  Nora  stood  perfectly  quiet, 
her  hands  hanging  by  her  side. 

" Good-bye,  Mary,"  she  said. 

"Good-bye,"  replied  Mary.  "May  the  Lord 
forgive  you  and  teach  you  to  mend  your  ways. 
May  He  open  your  eyes  to  your  sin!" 

She  went  out  and  closed  the  door.  It  was  the 
last  time  she  ever  entered  the  house. 

That  evening,  Nora  and  her  husband  were  just 
rising  from  the  dinner-table  when  the  door-bell 
rang.  They  went  into  the  living-room  to  find 
Nora's  father  and  mother  entering. 

The  entrance  was  portentous.  Mr.  Brewster's 
mouth  was  set  in  a  thin  line  and  he  shook  hands 
ominously,  without  a  syllable  of  greeting.  Mrs. 
Brewster  seemed  flustered.  She  declined  to  re- 
move her  wraps,  and  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  a 
chair.  Her  husband  also  seated  himself;  crossing 
one  thin  leg  over  the  other,  he  swung  his  foot  in 
and  out,  pulling,  the  while,  at  his  meagre  tuft  of 
chin- whiskers. 

A  little  perfunctory  conversation  ensued  between 
Mrs.  Brewster  and  her  daughter  and  son-in-law. 
Finally  the  old  lady  cut  the  Gordian  knot. 

"Walter's  Mary  was  in,  today,  Ellie,  an'  she 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  85 

told  me  some  things  that  worried  me  consid- 
erable." 

"I  know  what  they  were,"  answered  Nora 
coldly.  "Suppose,  Mother,  we  allow  that  sub- 
ject to  remain  closed.  It  can  do  no  good  to 
open  it." 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't,  Ellie,"  faltered  her 
mother,  with  tears  quivering  in  her  voice.  "I 
wish  you  wouldn't.  I  can't  see  you  goin'  on  this 
way,  from  bad  to  worse,  an'  not  raise  a  ringer  to 
try  an'  stop  you.  The  child  that  I  raised  from  a 
baby.  The  little  thing  that  used  to  go  toddlin'  by 
my  side  an'  hidin'  her  head  in  my  skirts.  I  wish 
you  wouldn't  act  so." 

"Mother,"  responded  Nora,  more  gently,  "let 
us  not  discuss  this  subject.  It  is  one  on  which  we 
can  never  agree.  I  must  live  my  own  life,  accord- 
ing to  my  own  views.  In  all  that  I  do,  I  have  my 
husband's  approval  and  support.  That  ought  to 
be  enough." 

"I  can't  hardly  believe  it,"  quavered  the  older 
woman.  "How  can  a  church  member  like  Wesley, 
there,  stand  by  card-play  in' ?" 

"You  know  nothing  about  card-playing, 
Mother,"  announced  her  daughter.  "There  is  a 
superstitious  idea  in  some  people's  minds  that 
cards  are  evil — that  it  is  wicked  even  to  touch 
them.  That  is  ridiculous.  There  are,  of  course, 
some  people  who  use  them  for  gambling.  But 
there  are  many  perfectly  innocent  games  that  can 
be  played  with  cards.  Just  as  innocent  as  that 


86  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

game  of  'Authors'  that  Mary's  family  is  so  fond 
of." 

Mrs.  Brewster  sat  looking  down  at  the  knotted 
work-hardened  hands  in  her  lap.  There  was  a  long 
silence.  Finally,  with  a  deep  breath,  she  rose 
from  her  chair. 

"Well,  I  can't  argue  with  you,  Ellie, "  she 
sighed,  tremulously,  "I  never  could.  But  I 
couldn't  seem  to  see  you  goin'  all  wrong,  so 
to  speak,  an'  not  raise  a  finger  to  stop  you. 
I  might  of  knowed,  though,  that  it  wouldn't 
do  no  good.  Come,  Poppa;  I  guess  we'd  best 
be  goin'." 

The  old  man  rose  to  his  gaunt  height,  and  then 
found  his  tongue  for  the  first  time. 

" Not  till  I've  spoke, "  he  thundered.  "Not  till 
I've  hed  my  say."  Then,  pointing  a  trembling 
finger  at  his  daughter,  he  continued,  ("J'accuse, " 
he  might  have  been  saying) : 

"You  have  no  heart.  None.  All  your  life 
I've  knowed  it.  You  have  no  love  fer  the  roof 
that  sheltered  you,  nor  fer  the  hands  that  fed 
and  cared  fer  you.  You're  a  thankless  child. 
An'  some  day,  you'll  reap  the  reward  of  your 
thanklessness.  Before  I  leave  this  house,  let  me 
say  one  thing  to  you:  never  you  dare  to  cross  my 
doorsill  again  till  you've  give  up  your  wicked 
ways,  your  card-playin',  an'  your  drinkin',  an' 
gamin'.  My  roof  shelters  none  sech,  be  they 
childurn  or  strangers!"  And  he  stalked  from  the 
room,  followed  by  his  wife. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  87 

After  the  door  had  closed  on  them,  Nora  and 
Bob  avoided  each  other's  eyes.  There  was  a  little 
attempt  at  conversation,  and  then  Nora  said  she 
was  tired  and  thought  she  would  go  to  bed.  The 
evening's  incident  was  never  again  mentioned  by 
her  or  her  husband. 

A  separation  from  a  family  that  had  always  irked 
her,  should  have  caused  Nora  no  sorrow.  One 
more  of  her  galling  chains  had  simply  fallen  from 
her.  That  was  all.  And  yet,  while  she  welcomed 
the  resultant  freedom,  she  never  voluntarily 
permitted  herself  to  dwell  on  the  facts  that  had 
caused  it.  Always,  the  recollection  gave  her  a 
queer  feeling  of  discomfort  that  was  as  insistent 
as  it  was  ridiculous. 

Ah  well,  these  minds  of  ours  are  odd  things. 
We  cannot  always  control  them.  And  these 
habits  of  ours  are  odder  still.  We  can  sometimes 
break  them,  but  never  can  we  forget  them. 


CHAPTER  X 

FOR  some  time,  the  members  of  the  Little  house- 
hold had  been  expressing  a  wish  to  become  better 
acquainted  with  Robert  Prentiss.  They  had 
spoken  of  it  frequently  before  his  wife  made  any 
response.  She  took  it  for  granted  that  it  was  all 
on  her  account,  and,  as  she  felt  sure  that  the 
meeting  would  cause  no  pleasure  on  either  side, 
she  did  not  encourage  the  idea.  But  they  became 
insistent. 

"Why,  yes,  I'll  bring  him  with  pleasure,"  she 
agreed.  It  was  at  afternoon  tea,  one  day,  and 
Harry  Little  and  his  father-in-law  were  both 
present.  "But  I'm  afraid  you  won't  have  much 
in  common.  He's  wrapped  up  in  his  business,  and 
he's  fond  of  good  horses.  That's  about  all."  (She 
purposely  neglected  to  mention  church.)  "You'll 
never  win  him  over  to  card-playing,  Edith." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  to, "  answered  Edith.  "  My 
ambitions  in  that  line  are  satisfied  now  that  our 
table  is  made  up  and  that  my  pupil  is  robbing  me 
of  all  my  spending-money.  What  do  you  think, 
Harry?  Nora  won  over  twelve  dollars  this  after- 
noon, at  half  a  cent  a  point. "  (They  had  origin- 
ally played  for  quarter-cent  stakes.) 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  89 

"Good  for  you,  Mrs.  Prentiss,"  commended  her 
host.  "  Take  all  you  can  get.  That's  my  motto, 
and  I  hear  it's  also  your  husband's.  Now,  what 
evening  this  week  will  you  bring  him  over  to  see 
us?" 

"Why,  any  evening.  We  have  no  evening 
engagements.  We  are  always  home." 

"Tomorrow?" 

"Yes,  if  you  like."  Still  she  hesitated  percept- 
ibly. Harry  Little  thought  he  read  her  trouble. 

"Tell  him  not  to  bother  to  dress, "  he  said,  tele- 
graphing to  his  wife  with  his  eyes.  "I  often 
don't." 

This  was  all  Greek  to  Nora.  She  had  never  been 
to  the  Littles'  except  in  the  daytime,  and  thus  had 
never  seen  any  of  them  in  evening  clothes.  The 
idea  of  a  man  assuming  such  a  garb  to  pay  a  call, 
did  not  enter  her  head.  To  tell  the  truth,  Robert 
Prentiss  did  not  possess  such  a  thing  as  a  suit  of 
evening  clothes.  He  had  never  had  any  use  for 
one. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Nora?"  demanded  Edith 
Little  suddenly.  "Out  with  it.  I  can  see  you 
have  something  up  your  sleeve. " 

"Well,  Edith,  I'll  tell  you.  Of  course,  I  hope 
you'll  like  Bob,  and  I'm  just  crazy  for  him  to  know 
how  lovely  you  all  are.  But  he  has  some  queer 
ideas.  There  are  so  many  things  he  doesn't  under- 
stand. It  isn't  only  cards — he  doesn't  approve  of 
drinking " 

"My  dear,  there  shall  be  none.     I'll  have  him 


9O  TKe  Road  to  Mecca 

served  with  sandwiches  and  orangeade.  I  can 
survive  for  an  hour  without  a  drink.  If  I  find 
that  I  am  growing  weak,  I'll  slip  out  in  the  dining- 
room  and  fortify  myself  on  the  sly. " 

"  Oh,  Edith,  what  an  angel  you  are, "  cried  Nora 
fervently.  She  little  guessed  the  dangers  that 
might  lurk  in  the  costumes  of  her  friends,  that 
next  evening. 

"  But,  Mrs.  Prentiss,  how  inconvenient  you  must 
find  your  husband's  prejudices, "  smiled  Edith's 
aunt.  "Why  don't  you  make  him  travel?  He 
would  soon  lose  them  if  he  once  got  out  of  this 
little  rut  and  saw  the  world.  Take  him  to  Europe 
next  summer,  and,  mark  my  words,  your  troubles 
will  be  over. " 

"Paris  can  do  quite  a  bit  for  a  chap,"  agreed 
Harry.  "I  think  I'd  better  offer  myself  for  a 
guide. " 

"You'd  be  a  good  one, "  laughed  his  wife.  " I'll 
bet  he  wouldn't  miss  much." 

Thus  was  the  seed  of  the  Europe  idea  planted  in 
the  fruitful  soil  of  Nora's  receptive  mind. 

She  had  her  own  troubles  carrying  out  her  part 
of  the  programme. 

"But,  Bob,"  she  finally  pleaded,  "I  promised. 
I  said  that  we  had  no  engagement  and  that  we'd 
come,  and  now  they're  expecting  us.  It  would 
look  awfully  queer  not  to  go.  What  excuse  could 
I  make?  And,  besides,  I  want  you  to  know  my 
friends,  and  I  want  them  to  see  what  a  fine  husband 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  91 

I  have.  You  don't  know  how  I  have  been  brag- 
ging about  you." 

"All  right,"  he  said.  "I'll  go  if  you're  so  set 
on  it.  But  I  don't  think  it  will  work  very  well. " 

"  Oh,  yes  it  will, "  promised  Nora.    "You'll  see. " 

When  first  they  entered  the  house,  she  almost 
wished  that  she  had  failed  to  persuade  him.  The 
men  had  kept  their  promise  not  to  dress.  The 
women,  to  poor  Nora's  unsophisticated  eyes, 
looked  more  as  if  they  were  ready  for  their  bath 
than  for  guests.  She  had,  of  course,  seen  pictures 
of  evening  gowns,  but  flesh  is  so  different  from 
paper!  And  these  women  were  extremists.  Nora 
had  never  been  near  so  much  uncovered  flesh  in  her 
life.  She  didn't  dare  look  at  her  husband. 

The  talk  was  general,  at  first,  and  there  was 
some  music.  Then  the  men  drew  a  little  apart  and 
got  into  what  seemed  to  be  a  very  interesting 
business  talk.  Nora's  occasional  glances  showed 
her  the  very  genuine  deference  that  was  being 
paid  to  her  husband's  opinions.  She  began  to 
realize  that  he  was  not  there  wholly  out  of  compli- 
ment to  her. 

He  refused  cigars,  of  course,  though  both  his 
hosts  smoked  continuously.  He  partook  of  the 
promised  sandwiches  and  orangeade.  He  was 
entirely  at  his  ease,  and  was  not  at  all  impressed 
by  his  surroundings.  Nora's  respect  for  him  rose. 

After  they  had  made  their  adieux,  and  had  left 
the  house,  Mr.  Townsend  was  particularly  loud 
in  expressing  his  admiration  of  Prentiss. 


92  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"That  young  man  is  all  right,"  he  ejaculated. 
"He's  sound.  Mark  my  words,  the  world  will 
hear  of  him  some  day.  He  knows  the  stock- 
market  as  well  as  I  do." 

"Poor  devil!  I  pity  him  if  that  is  the  extent  of 
his  knowledge, "  sneered  Harry  Little.  His  father- 
in-law  got  on  his  nerves  occasionally,  and  he 
realized  that  the  elder  gentleman's  "knowledge" 
of  the  market  was  responsible  for  the  present  size 
of  his  own  household  and  the  apparent  hopeless- 
ness of  relief  ahead.  "I  didn't  marry  the  whole 
damn  family,"  he  would  say  savagely  to  himself. 

His  disparaging  reply  to  his  father-in-law's 
remark  was  icily  received  by  everyone.  Edith 
refused  to  kiss  him  good-night,  and  said  she 
thought  she  would  go  to  bed,  as  there  was  nothing 
else  to  do.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Townsend  and  Mrs. 
Payne  also  withdrew  in  silent  disapproval. 

Poor  Harry  Little!  Evidently  he  had  married 
the  "whole  damn  family." 

As  soon  as  the  door  closed  on  them,  Robert 
Prentiss  began  to  inhale  great  breaths  of  fresh 
night  air. 

" How  good  it  tastes,"  he  cried.  "How  can  any 
one  live  in  that  vile  air?  It  almost  choked  me. " 

"You  seemed  to  make  a  great  impression," 
purred  Nora.  She  was  anxious  to  put  him  in  a 
good  humour,  and  to  forestall  any  criticism  of 
her  friends. 

"Hm!     I  guess  they  wanted  a  little  information 


"THe  Road  to  Mecca  93 

that  they  thought  would  be  useful.  They're  just 
like  everyone  else,  in  that  respect."  Then,  after 
a  pause,  "Nora,  that  was  the  most  scandalous 
exhibition  I  ever  saw!  No  decent  women  would 
dress  that  way.  And  the  face  of  every  one  of  them 
was  painted  an  inch  thick!  It  was  perfectly  dis- 
gusting!" 

"Oh,  no,  Bob.  You  are  wrong  about  that,  I'm 
sure,"  she  cried,  glad  to  lead  the  talk  away  from 
that  portion  of  his  criticism  that  she  could  least 
deny.  "That  colour  of  Edith's  is  perfectly 
natural.  I've  seen  her  as  pale  as  a  ghost,  and, 
while  we're  sitting  talking,  her  colour  will  come  up, 
just  like  it  was  tonight." 

"Nonsense,"  he  insisted.  "That's  impossible. 
You're  as  innocent  as  a  baby,  Nora.  Let  me  tell 
you  right  here,  though,  that  you  are  never  to  try 
anything  of  that  sort,  or  any  such  disgusting  dress- 
ing. Not  that  you  would,  of  course.  But,  if 
you  did,  I'd  put  my  foot  down,  for  once,  so  you'd 
know  it." 

( ' '  Europe, ' '  she  whispered  to  herself.  ' '  Europe , 
Europe,  Europe!") 

"Harry  Little's  the  best  of  that  bunch,"  an- 
nounced her  husband,  suddenly. 

" Harry?"  she  echoed,  amazed,  so  accustomed 
had  she  grown  to  hearing  him  ridiculed. 

"Yes,  I  feel  sort  of  sorry  for  him.  Poor  chap, 
I  guess  he's  bit  off  more  than  he  can  chew." 

She  was  silent. 

Just  before  they  reached  their  own  door,  he 


94  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

spoke  again  of  the  pure  fresh  air.     "I  hate  that 
vile  tobacco,"  he  said. 

And  he  never  went  back  on  that.  Robert 
Prentiss  lived  to  change  most  of  his  views  and  to 
lose  many  of  his  principles,  but  three  things  he 
never  did:  he  never  smoked,  he  never  danced,  he 
never  touched  a  card. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  spring  came  early  that  year.  The  first 
week  in  March  was  like  mid-April,  and  in  the 
Little  household  there  arose  talk  of  golf  and 
Country  Clubs. 

"You  must  learn  to  play  golf,  Nora, "  counselled 
Edith.  "It's  perfectly  thrilling.  I'll  take  you 
over  to  the  Club  at  Maplehurst, — they're  very 
easy-going  in  regard  to  outsiders, — and  then,  after 
you  meet  them  all,  I'll  propose  your  name,  and 
you  can  be  a  member. " 

And  so  it  happened  that  Nora  Prentiss  had  her 
first  view  of  a  Country  Club. 

She  was  immediately  fascinated.  The  ample 
leisure,  the  cheerful  groups  on  porches  and  grounds, 
the  cosy  tea-drinking  in  the  pretty  club  house,  the 
ease  with  which  cards  and  drinks  could  be  enjoyed, 
the  luxurious  showers  and  dressing-rooms,  the 
obsequious  servants,  and  the  careless  happy-go- 
lucky  spirit  of  the  place,  all  opened  new  vistas  to 
her  mind,  and  made  strong  appeals  to  her  taste. 

Maplehurst  society  made  a  great  fuss  over  Mrs. 
Harry  Little.  Even  to  its  eyes, — more  sophisti- 
cated than  Nora's,  though  they  were, — the  flash- 

95 


96  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

ing,  dazzling,  animated  New  York  girl  was  more 
or  less  of  a  Bird  of  Paradise.  Any  friend  of  hers 
would  have  been  welcomed ;  and  Mrs.  Prentiss  was 
pretty  enough,  and  stylish  enough,  and  sufficiently 
expert  at  Bridge,  to  have  stood  on  her  own  feet, 
had  it  been  necessary. 

Golf  made  but  small  appeal  to  Nora.  She  was 
not  at  all  athletic ;  but  the  game  was  a  means  to  an 
end,  so  she  embraced  it  with  fervour. 

It  soon  became  apparent  that  she  must  have 
sport  clothes  and  a  set  of  clubs  of  her  own.  She 
and  Edith  went  into  consultation. 

"You  simply  cannot  attempt  to  make  sport 
clothes, ' '  Edith  told  her.  ' '  Clever  though  you  are, 
they  wouldn't  be  right.  The  cut  and  the  line  are 
what  they  depend  on,  and  no  one  but  a  good 
tailor  can  give  you  those.  And,  of  course  there  is 
no  decent  tailor  here." 

"No,"  agreed  Nora,  "there  isn't.  And  I  can 
see  that  I  couldn't  make  them." 

"And  there's  no  reason  why  you  should,  with  a 
husband  that  has  as  much  money  as  yours." 

Nora  shook  her  head,  but  Edith  continued : 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do.  We'll  have  to  run 
up  to  town  and  fit  you  out.  It  will  be  great  fun. 
We've  never  been  off  on  a  spree  together." 

"How  much  would  the  clothes  cost?"  asked 
Nora. 

"Well,  my  suit  came  from  one  of  the  biggest 
tailors  in  New  York,  and  it  wasn't  exactly  cheap. 
I  paid  a  hundred  dollars  for  it. " 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  97 

Nora  gasped.  "Edith,  you  didn't!  Not  a 
hundred  dollars  for  that  rough-and-ready  suit?" 

Edith  threw  back  her  head,  and  laughed  merrily. 

"Of  course  I  did,  you  little  goose.  That's 
nothing.  But  yours  won't  be  so  much.  New 
York  prices  are  always  higher.  Now,  I  have  the 
address  of  a  very  good  tailor  up  in  town, — one 
of  the  girls  gave  it  to  me,  thinking  I  might  use  it 
when  I  moved  down  here.  He's  fairly  cheap, 
too." 

She  thought  for  a  moment,  then : 

"How  much  are  you  ahead  on  Bridge?"  she 
asked. 

"About  thirty  dollars,"  confessed  Nora. 

"Well,  we'll  take  that " 

"But  I  was  to  save  that  against  losses " 

"Nonsense,  you're  not  going  to  lose.  Take  the 
benefit  of  your  luck.  You  ask  your  husband  for 
fifty  dollars  more,  and  I'll  bet  we  can  do  it.  I'm 
a  splendid  hand  at  bargaining  and  I'll  jew  the  tailor 
down  for  you." 

"I  never  paid  fifty  dollars  for  a  suit,  in  my  life, " 
said  Nora.  "I  wouldn't  know  how  to  ask  Bob 
for  so  much  money,  just  for  that." 

"He  might  as  well  get  used  to  it  now,  as  later. 
This  is  what  we'll  do.  Marie  shall  take  your 
measurements  and  we'll  write  to  this  man  for 
samples  and  prices.  I'll  tell  him  that  he  must 
make  me  a  special  price  for  a  friend,  and,  as  he'll 
be  sure  to  want  my  custom,  he'll  do  it.  Then 
we'll  send  the  measurements  and  have  him  get  the 

7 


98  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

suit  ready  for  the  first  fitting.  I'll  write  him  that 
two  fittings  are  all  that  he  can  have.  We'll  run 
up  to  town  together  and  have  a  fitting,  then  we'll 
stay  overnight  at  a  hotel  and  see  a  piece  at  the 
theatre;  and  the  next  day  we'll  have  another 
fitting  and  come  home.  He'll  send  the  suit 
later." 

Nora's  eyes  were  as  big  as  saucers;  she  could 
hardly  speak. 

"Oh,  I'm  sure  I  can't  do  it,"  she  cried.  "I'd 
give  my  head  to;  but  I  can't.  I've  never  been 
away  from  home  overnight  since  I  was  married." 

"You  poor  little  thing !  Three  years  and  a  half ! 
I  never  heard  of  such  an  outrage.  I  should  think 
you  would  die!11 

"There  are  the  children,  you  know." 

"What  of  them?  You  have  responsible  ser- 
vants. The  children  would  be  as  safe  with  them 
as  they  are  this  minute.  Now, — don't  say  a 
word"  (for  Nora's  mouth  was  opening  again), 
"I  must  calculate,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  inter- 
rupted." 

She  took  up  a  jewelled  pencil  and  proceeded  to 
make  a  list. 

"We'll  allow  fifteen  dollars  for  your  clubs  and 
caddy-bag.  And  you  ought  to  be  able  to  get  a 
plain  little  sport-hat  for  six  or  eight.  And  five 
more  for  shoes, — that's  not  much,  but  I  think  we 
can  find  them.  That  makes  twenty-six  or  eight. 
I'll  make  that  man  give  you  a  suit  for  fifty.  You 
ask  your  husband  for  fifty  dollars  and  your  car-fare. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  99 

With  your  Bridge-money,  we  can  do  it.  I'll  blow 
you  off  to  your  hotel-bill,  and  the  theatre  and 
meals  won't  cost  us  anything.  I'll  see  to  that." 

"Edith,  it's  impossible." 

"Nora,  don't  be  a  fool.  Bring  your  husband 
over  here  and  I'll  manage  him."  (Edith  was 
always  sure  of  her  ability  to  "manage"  any 
man.) 

"No,"  answered  Nora,  "thank  you  very  much, 
but  I  should  rather  manage  him,  myself." 

This  she  did  to  such  effect  that,  ten  days  later, 
she  and  Edith  were  on  the  train  going  "up  to 
town. " 

Edith  was  radiant.  "I  feel  it  in  my  bones  that 
we  are  going  to  have  the  time  of  our  lives,"  she 
cried.  "I'm  a  bird  set  free  from  a  cage.  You 
won't  mind,  Nora  dear,  if  we  are  three  for  luncheon, 
will  you?  It  will  be  all  right  tonight.  There'll 
be  four  of  us  then.  But  I've  asked  only  one 
friend  for  luncheon.  You  don't  mind?" 

"Why,  certainly  not,"  replied  Nora.  Taking 
it  for  granted  the  "friend"  was  a  woman,  she 
wondered  why  she  should  mind. 

Arrived  in  the  city,  they  took  a  carriage  straight 
to  the  hotel.  By  the  time  the  rooms  were  engaged, 
Marie  and  the  luggage  deposited,  and  Edith's  nose 
and  lips  properly  touched  up,  it  was  luncheon- 
time.  A  huge  box  of  violets  and  a  small  visiting- 
card  were  delivered  at  the  door  and  carried  by 
Marie  to  her  mistress. 

"Do  you  mind  letting  me  run  down  for  a  mo- 


loo  THe  Goad  to  Mecca 

ment,  ahead  of  you,  Nora?  "  asked  Edith.  "  Come 
down  in  ten  minutes  and  I'll  be  waiting  for  you  in 
the  lobby." 

It  was  Nora,  herself,  who  sat  waiting  twenty 
minutes  or  more,  before  Edith  showed  up.  With 
her  was  a  slender  fashionably-dressed  young  man. 
He  was  presented  as  "  Mr.  Barklie. "  After  a  stare 
of  greeting  and  a  few  perfunctory  remarks,  he 
seemed  to  forget  Nora's  existence.  Edith  in- 
cluded her  in  the  conversation  from  time  to  time, 
and,  on  such  occasions  her  cavalier  always  turned 
with  a  polite  smile  and  awaited  Nora's  answer. 
Then  they  both  promptly  forgot  her.  She  was 
consulted  as  to  food,  and  the  remainder  of  the  time 
she  was  free  to  eat  and  listen.  It  was  her  first 
experience  at  playing  gooseberry, — as  well  as  her 
initiation  into  married  flirtations.  Edith  addressed 
her  swain  as  "Reggie."  To  Nora's  stupefaction, 
she  gathered  that  he  had  come  all  the  way  from 
New  York  just  to  meet  them. 

"You  should  have  written  me  longer  ahead, 
Edith,  "  he  said.  "  Suppose  I  had  happened  to  be 
out  of  town!" 

"  My  dear,  I  wrote  the  instant  I  knew.  And,  at 
the  last  moment  I  nearly  had  a  fit.  I  thought 
Harry  was  going  to  decide  to  come  with  us." 

"How  is  your  bear?  Still  dancing  at  the  end  of 
his  string?" 

"Heavens,  yes.  I  wish  he'd  get  tired  and 
lie  down.  He  gets  on  my  toes, — he's  so 
clumsy." 


The  Road  to  Mecca  IOI 

They  both  laughed,  then  in  lowered  tones, 
Reggie  observed:  "Lucky  beggar.  That's  what 
it  means  to  have  barrels  of  money." 

He  made  mad  love  to  Edith  all  through  the  meal. 
She  was  even  more  daring  than  her  wont.  She  was 
dazzlingly  pretty,  but  her  conversation  would  not 
bear  transcribing.  Reggie  held  her  hand  under 
the  table  most  of  the  time. 

It  was  arranged  that  Edith  should  see  Nora 
through  her  fitting,  and  that  Nora  should  then 
return  to  the  hotel  and  "rest"  until  dinner-time, 
— ("unless  you'd  rather  take  Marie  and  a  cab,  and 
go  shopping,  Nora,  dear?").  Edith  and  Reggie 
were  to  spend  the  afternoon  together,  driving  in  the 
park. 

In  the  evening,  they  had  a  gay  little  dinner  and 
a  box  at  the  theatre — Edith  and  Reggie,  Nora  and 
a  certain  Mr.  Hare.  The  latter  gentleman  was 
what  Edith  designated  as  a  "stiff."  "I'm  sorry, 
Nora,  darling,  but  it's  the  best  I  could  do,  this 
time.  Another  time,  I'll  see  that  you  are  properly 
provided  for." 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  excitement  of  the  evening 
and  a  very  risque  show,  Nora  might  have  found 
Mr.  Hare  a  burden  rather  than  a  pleasure.  He 
did  his  part  nobly,  but  neither  of  them  was  at  all 
interested  in  the  other,  and  Nora  was,  as  yet,  quite 
unversed  in  small-talk,  and  knew  nothing  what- 
ever of  the  only  topics  on  which  her  escort  was  able 
to  converse.  They  had  been  thrown  together  for 
convenience  pure  and  simple;  it  would  have  been 


IO2  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

too  much  to  expect  them  to  make  an  immediate 
mutual  hit. 

But  Nora's  first  evening  at  the  theatre  could  not 
be  entirely  spoiled, — even  by  Edith,  even  by  Mr. 
Hare.  She  sat  spell-bound  at  the  rail  of  the  box, 
answering  absently  to  Mr.  Hare's  sallies,  while 
Edith  and  Reggie  withdrew  to  the  shadowy  back- 
ground, where  they  could  whisper  and  bill  and  coo 
to  their  heart's  content. 

Supper  passed  like  a  dream,  to  Nora.  She  had 
lost  all  sense  of  the  reality  of  things.  At  its 
termination,  good-byes  were  exchanged,  as  the 
men  would  be  returning  to  New  York,  in  the  morn- 
ing, before  Edith  and  Nora  were  up.  Nora  with- 
drew and  went  upstairs  to  be  put  to  bed  by  Ma-ie. 
She  left  Edith  with  Reggie,  and  she  never  knew 
what  time  her  friend  came  to  bed.  Their  rooms 
joined  but  the  door  of  communication  was  locked 
on  Edith's  side.  Each  room  had  its  own  bath. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morning  before 
Edith  was  ready  to  make  her  appearance.  The 
two  women  had  breakfasted,  separately,  in  bed, 
and  both  were  ready  for  the  street  when  they  first 
met.  Taking  a  carriage,  they  drove  to  the  shops 
and  Nora's  hat  and  shoes  were  chosen  and  bought. 
To  these,  Edith  insisted  on  adding  a  charming 
afternoon  frock  of  embroidered  batiste,  some 
French  underwear,  a  couple  of  smart  veils,  two 
pairs  of  dressy  slippers,  a  box  of  silk  stockings,  and 
some  of  her  own  particular  perfume.  It  was  vain 
of  Nora  to  protest;  Edith  would  not  listen.  "  It's 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  103 

nothing,  at  all, "  she  kept  insisting,  "and  you  need 
the  things.  You  can  wear  my  frocks  and  hats, 
if  it  comes  to  a  pinch;  but  my  feet  are  smaller  than 
yours,  and  a  smart  frock  is  no  good  without  pretty 
slippers.  Now  just  be  quiet,  Nora.  You  make 
me  nervous,  and  you  can't  stop  me. " 

Nora  understood  that  her  silence  was  being 
bought.  She  felt  depressed,  in  spite  of  the  wonder- 
ful outfit  that  was  accumulating  under  her  eyes. 
It  was  another  first  experience ;  she  now  knew  the 
meaning  of  the  expression,  "The  cold  grey  dawn 
of  the  morning  after."  It  was  one  of  Harry  Little's 
favourite  similes  and  she  had  often  laughed  at  it. 
Now  she  understood  it. 

For  once  in  her  life  she  wanted  to  get  home. 
She  wanted  to  be  alone.  She  wanted  to  think. 

Her  husband  had  never  received  from  her  lips  a 
more  heart-felt  kiss  than  the  one  with  which  she 
greeted  him  that  evening.  She  lay  awake  all 
night  long. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  stars  in  their  courses  certainly  fought  for 
Nora  Prentiss.  It's  a  habit  they  have  when  they 
meet  with  a  person  who  possesses  a  strong  deter- 
mination and  a  single  purpose  in  life. 

For  years,  Robert  Prentiss  had  worked  early 
and  late,  with  no  let-up  and  no  recreation.  He 
had  worked,  in  fact,  like  the  proverbial  horse. 
And  his  only  exercise  had  been  the  short  walk 
between  his  home  and  his  place  of  business. 

He  began  to  be  troubled  with  inconvenient 
spells  of  dizziness.  The  local  doctor  helped  him 
not  at  all. 

By  this  time,  all  Nora's  secrets  and  all  her  cares 
were  laid  at  Edith's  feet.  And,  in  the  present 
extremity,  the  following  very  pretty  plan  was 
hatched. 

Up  in  the  adjacent  city  lived,  and  practised,  a 
very  well-known  physician,  who  had  been  a  former 
admirer  of  Mrs.  Townsend's.  They  still  met, 
from  time  to  time,  and  always  with  renewed  gal- 
lantry on  the  part  of  Dr.  Hillier.  Robert  Prentiss 
was  now  to  be  sent  up  to  this  man,  for  examina- 
tion. And,  before  he  went,  Mrs.  Townsend  was 
to  write  to  Dr.  Hillier  and  tell  him  what  form  of 

104 


The  Road  to  Mecca  105 

prescription  would  be  most  welcome  to  the  patient's 
wife,  and  to  his  circle  of  friends. 

And  so  it  came  about.  Robert  Prentiss  at 
first  objected  to  the  unnecessary  journey,  but  he 
was  overruled.  And  he  was  becoming,  in  truth, 
more  than  a  little  annoyed  by  the  state  of  his 
health. 

On  his  return  from  the  trip,  which  he  had  made 
alone,  Nora  was  waiting  for  him  at  the  station. 

"Well?"  she  asked,  with  pretty  anxiety,  as 
soon  as  they  had  exchanged  greetings. 

"  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  as  soon  as  we  get  home," 
he  answered.  "I'm  dog-tired.  I  guess  this  Dr. 
Hillier  is  a  pretty  big  man,  all  right,  though.  His 
waiting-room  was  crowded;  and,  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Mrs.  Townsend's  note,  I  would  have  had  to 
wait  for  hours.  I'd  have  had  to  telegraph  you 
and  sleep  up  in  town." 

At  home,  Patty  was  still  awake,  waiting  to  kiss 
"farver,"  and  Cyril  was  embraced  as  he  lay  sleep- 
ing in  his  pink-and- white  crib.  Downstairs,  a 
cosy  dinner  was  just  on  the  point  of  being  served. 

"This  feels  good"  commended  the  master  of 
the  house,  stretching  his  legs  comfortably  under 
his  own  board.  "I  tell  you,  Nora,  there's  no 
place  like  home." 

She  smiled  and  waited  patiently  for  the  news 
of  his  trip.  Nobody  could  be  more  patient  than 
Nora  Prentiss  when  once  she  was  assured  of  ulti- 
mate success.  Finally,  her  husband  was  ready 
to  open  up. 


106  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

''It  seems  to  be  my  liver,"  he  announced. 
"And  I'm  getting  too  stout.  He  talked  very 
sensibly.  Gave  me  some  medicine,  and  told  me 
about  my  food.  I'm  to  cut  out  potatoes,  and  all 
pies,  and  doughnuts,  and  hot  bread." 

"That  will  be  easy,"  she  interposed.  "You'll 
miss  them  at  first,  but  not  long.  You  must  get 
used  to  eating  more  fruit.  And  Jane  and  I  will 
get  busy  and  look  up  a  lot  of  new  deserts, — you 
love  them  so." 

"Yes,  I  have  a  sweet  tooth,  all  right." 

"Was  that  all  he  told  you?"  she  asked. 

"No.  It  seems  he's  great  on  exercise.  He 
wants  me  to  learn  to  play  this  game,  golf.  Says 
he  couldn't  live  without  it.  I  told  him  I  was  too 
busy  for  such  tomfoolery.  I  could  get  exercise 
enough,  walking." 

"He  seems  to  be  a  pretty  busy  man,  himself." 

"That's  just  what  he  said.  He  said  he  saved 
months  by  giving  up  hours,  and  years  by  giving 
up  months.  He  says  walking  isn't  the  same — 
it  don't  exercise  your  whole  body.  Then  he 
asked  me  how  often  I  thought  I'd  get  out  and  walk 
a  whole  afternoon,  if  I  hadn't  something  special 
to  interest  me." 

"That's  very  true,"  agreed  Nora.  "I  believe 
you'd  like  golf,  if  you  once  got  started." 

"I  told  him  that  none  of  the  men  around  these 
parts  wasted  their  time  that  way.  And  he  asked 
me  how  many  of  them  used  their  brains  as  hard 
as  I  use  mine.  And  that's  true,  too." 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  107 

"  It  certainly  is.     Is  that  all?  " 

"No, — there  was  one  thing  that'll  make  you 
laugh.  He  said  that  in  the  long  run,  a  man  will 
find  that  he  can  do  topnotch  work  for  eleven 
months  in  the  year,  but  not  for  twelve.  He  wants 
me  to  take  a  long  vacation  in  the  summer.  And 
where  do  you  think  he  wants  me  to  go?" 

Nora  shook  her  head. 

"Europe!"  he  announced.  "What  do  you 
think  of  that?  Me  being  ordered  to  Europe!" 

"And  why  not?"  she  cried.  "I  think  it  is  a 
perfectly  wonderful  idea.  It's  the  only  way  you'd 
ever  rest.  Oh  Bob,  it  would  be  too  perfect!  All 
my  life  I've  longed  and  longed  to  travel.  Just 
think  of  all  that  beautiful  scenery " 

"We've  got  plenty  of  scenery  here " 

"No,  no,"  she  interposed.  "The  trip,  I  mean, 
and  the  joy  of  travelling.  And  the  cathedrals, 
and  art  galleries,  and  museums"  (being  primed  in 
advance,  she  was  specially  fluent).  "Oh  Bob,  it 
seems  to  me  I'd  die  happy  if  I  thought  we  could 
do  that." 

"I  believe  it's  intended  to  make  us  live  happy, 
instead  of  dying,"  he  laughed.  "Think  of  us 
being  ordered  to  Europe!  What  do  you  suppose 
they'll  say  when  that  gets  around  town?" 

He  shook  his  head,  but  it  was  easy  to  see  that 
he  was  enjoying  the  idea  and  the  sensation  it 
would  make. 

"When  are  you  to  see  Dr.  Hillier  again?" 
demanded  Nora.  She  was  wise  enough  to  drop 


io8  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

the  big  issue  and  to  let  the  idea  take  its  own  time 
getting  rooted. 

"In  six  weeks.  I'm  to  start  right  in  and  play 
golf  for  six  weeks,  and  then  go  up  and  report 
progress." 

"That  will  be  late  May,"  mused  Nora.  "Oh 
won't  it  be  sport  to  learn  golf  together?  You'll 
beat  me  all  to  pieces,  though." 

Protestingly,  he  permitted  himself  to  be  led 
golfward.  The  game,  which  had  appeared  so 
foolish  in  anticipation,  caught  his  immediate 
interest.  His  great  natural  gift  was  overcoming 
obstacles.  When  he  saw  Harry  Little  and  the 
other  men  lift  that  white  ball  and,  with  no  diffi- 
culty whatever,  send  it  skimming  away  like  a 
snowy  bird,  it  looked  too  easy  to  be  worth  a  trial. 
His  own  efforts  soon  undeceived  him.  Every 
time  he  flubbed,  he  was  the  more  determined  to 
do  it  right.  He  set  his  teeth  and  went  at  it. 

His  muscles,  so  used  to  constant  exercise  in  the 
old  farm-days,  had  been  growing  soft  and  flabby. 
They  responded  gladly  to  this  new  task;  a  tingle 
of  vigour  ran  through  him;  he  hadn't  felt  so  well, 
so  deep-chested,  so  springy,  in  years.  Golf  was 
all  right  I 

His  clothes,  however,  were  not.  He  was  quick 
to  perceive  that,  and  to  feel  awkward  and  minis- 
terial in  his  sombre  business-suit.  Sporting-togs 
made  an  appeal  to  him  that  evening-clothes  could 
never  make.  They  looked  informal,  and  friendly, 
and  attractive. 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  109 

It  resulted  in  another  trip  to  the  city,  to  fit 
himself  with  clothes  and  clubs.  The  return  from 
this  trip  marked  one  of  the  mistakes  of  his  life. 

Nora  had  often  spoken  of  the  bareness  of  her 
hands,  as  compared  with  the  be-ringed  ones  of  her 
companions.  She  "felt  it,"  at  the  Bridge-table. 

On  his  return  from  town  her  husband  handed 
her  a  small  box  and  settled  himself  in  pleasant 
anticipation  of  her  surprise  and  happiness. 

Nora  took  out  a  ring.  It  was  a  very  modest- 
sized  amethyst  surrounded  by  pearls — not  at  all 
the  ring  of  her  dreams. 

Her  manner  of  receiving  it  was  perfection. 

"Oh,  how  sweet!"  she  cried;  "how  darling  of 
you,  Bob!"  Then,  after  a  pause, — "it  would 
make  an  awfully  pretty  pendant,  wouldn't  it? 
Couldn't  I  have  it  made  into  a  pendant?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  suppose  so,"  he  answered.  "But 
I  thought  it  was  a  ring  you  wanted." 

"Yes,  it  was,"  she  replied,  still  hesitating — 
"Yes,  of  course — I'll  wear  it  as  a  ring  if  you'd 
rather.  I  only  thought  it  looked  more  like  a 
pendant.  Of  course,  I'll  wear  it  just  as  it  is." 

"Not  at  all,"  he  answered.  "Suit  yourself. 
It  makes  no  difference  to  me." 

He  never  again  made  such  a  blunder.  Nora 
had  created  the  exact  impression  she  desired. 
When  it  came  to  a  question  of  jewels,  it  must  be 
the  best  or  nothing,  for  her. 

They  couldn't  always  motor  to  the  Country 


no  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Club  with  the  Littles ;  and  to  drive  there  and  back 
— ten  miles  each  way — soon  proved  a  lamentable 
waste  of  time.  The  result  was  the  purchase  of  a 
small  automobile — the  first  privately-owned  motor 
in  Allenbury,  barring  those  in  the  Little  garage. 
Like  his  golf,  his  motor  proved  a  constantly 
increasing  pleasure  to  Robert  Prentiss.  Slowly 
but  surely,  his  tastes  were  being  formed. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN  early  May,  he  was  again  called  to  the  Ohio 
farm.  His  trip  was  unfortunately  timed  for 
Nora.  Edith  and  Harry  Little  were  on  the  eve 
of  starting  away  on  a  fortnight's  motor-trip  with 
a  crowd  of  New  York  friends, — three  big  touring 
cars, — an  itinerant  house-party. 

Nora  had  listened  enviously  to  the  discussion 
of  their  plans,  and  had  tried  to  comfort  herself 
with  the  thought  of  the  golf-practice  that  she  and 
her  husband  would  get.  But  his  summons  to 
Ohio  killed  such  hopes.  She  looked  forward  to 
a  lonely  week.  Every  time  that  she  saw  Edith, 
she  hoped  vainly  that  something  would  be  said 
about  including  her  in  the  motoring-party.  Of 
course,  this  never  entered  Edith's  head.  No  one 
needed  Nora  for  that. 

However,  one  crumb  of  comfort  did  fall  to  her 
share.  On  the  morning  before  the  party  was  to 
start,  Edith  drew  up  in  front  of  the  Prentiss  door 
in  a  smart  little  trap.  Throwing  the  reins  to  the 
groom,  she  tore  up  the  steps  and  burst  into  the 
house. 

"  Nora,"  she  called,  "where  are  you?  Something 
lovely  has  happened.  Get  your  things  and  come 

in 


112  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

with  me,  at  once.  I'm  going  to  take  you  home 
with  me,  for  the  morning." 

On  the  way,  she  explained  the  "something 
lovely."  There  had  been  a  slight  change  of  plan, 
by  telephone.  The  entire  party  (with  the  excep- 
tion of  Harry  and  Edith)  had  already  left  New 
York  and  were  on  their  way  to  Allenbury.  They 
would  dine  and  spend  that  night  at  Littlecrest, 
and  would  all  start  off  together  in  the  morning. 

"And,  as  there  are  three  more  men  than  women 
in  the  party,  you  are  to  dine  with  us,"  Edith  told 
her.  "That  will  just  make  the  Bridge-tables 
even,  and  leave  a  five-hand  poker  game,  including 
Papa  and  Harry.  Of  course,  you  have  nothing 
to  wear  and  I  am  taking  you  back  to  try  on  one 
of  my  gowns.  You  are  taller,  a  little,  than  I; 
but  I  have  the  most  wonderful  costume  that  has 
just  come  home.  It's  a  Callot  model — a  perfect 
peach.  And  it's  a  little  long  for  me, — Marie  was 
about  to  shorten  it.  You  shall  wear  it  before  she 
touches  it." 

The  frock  was  already  on  exhibition  when  they 
reached  Edith's  rooms.  It  was  indeed  a  ' '  peach  " ; 
it  was  the  most  marvellous  creation  Nora  had 
ever  beheld.  But  the  bodice  was  a  mere  suggestion 
of  tulle  and  jewelled  shoulder-straps. 

"Take  off  your  things,  at  once,"  ordered  Edith 
excitedly,  "while  I  ring  for  Marie."  She  was  in 
her  element. 

The  frock  fitted  exactly.  When  Nora  first 
looked  in  the  long  mirror  at  her  pictured  reflection, 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  113 

she  gasped.  She  was  as  pretty  as  a  picture  and 
as  immodest  as  a  courtesan. 

"But  Edith,"  she  gasped,  "I  couldn't  wear  this 
waist  without  some  lace,  or  something " 

"Indeed,"  cried  Edith,  "you'll  wear  it  that  way 
or  not  at  all.  I  won't  have  it  ruined.  Now  Nora, 
don't  be  a  fool!" 

"But  look  at  it,"  begged  Nora.  "It  certainly 
must  look  lower  on  me  than  on  you." 

"It  does  nothing  of  the  sort.  It  is  simply 
ravishing.  I  won't  have  it  spoiled,  I  tell  you. 
It's  my  frock  and  I  think  I'm  pretty  unselfish  to 
let  you  be  the  first  to  wear  it." 

"Cest  epatante"  confirmed  Marie  in  a  hushed 
voice. 

Nora  turned  and  took  up  a  hand-glass  to 
get  another  view.  The  back  of  the  bodice  was 
cut  to  the  extreme  waist-line.  A  special  corset 
permitted  this  decolletage. 

"Now  Nora,  for  Heaven's  sake  get  rid  of  your 
countrified  prudery,"  cried  Edith  irritably,  "or 
you'll  never  be  fit  for  anything  but  a  farmer's 
wife.  Who  do  you  suppose  knows  more  about 
clothes,  you  or  I?  You  or  Callot  Soeurs?  It's 
absurd  to  criticize  a  creation  like  that." 

"I'm  not  criticizing  it,"  explained  Nora.  "It's 
wonderful.  It's  the  most  beautiful  thing  I've 
ever  seen.  But  I  can't  see  that  it  would  be  spoiled 
by  some  lace  at  the  edge  of  the  waist  and  falling 
over  the  tops  of  my  arms." 

"Well,  it  would,  whether  you  see  it  or  not. 

8 


114  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

The  question  is,  will  you  wear  that  dress  just  as 
it  is,  and  come  to  my  dinner,  or  will  you  stay  at 
home  and  enjoy  yourself  alone?" 

"I'll  wear  it,  of  course,"  yielded  Nora.  She 
spoke  slowly.  Her  cheeks  were  crimson. 

"You  dear,"  cried  Edith,  immediately  radiant. 
"I  knew  you'd  be  sensible.  Now,  Marie  shall 
dress  you  and  pack  that  costume.  And  I'll  send 
you  home  in  the  motor,  and  send  it  after  you  again, 
at  seven-thirty  tonight — Oh,  Marie,  put  in  that 
turquoise  wrap  of  mine —  And,  Nora,  can  you 
dress  alone  all  right  this  evening?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  answered  Nora.  "Jane  or 
Maggie  can  help  me."  To  herself  she  thought  that 
it  must  be  Jane  or  no  one.  If  her  little  native 
second-maid  ever  saw  her  in  that  costume,  the 
news  would  soon  be  all  over  Allenbury.  She 
drove  home  in  a  maze,  with  her  precious  box. 

When  she  entered  Edith's  drawing-room  that 
evening,  she  still  felt  like  a  somnambulist.  The 
place  was  filled  with  a  chattering  animated  crowd 
of  pretty  women  and  smartly-clad  men.  Dazedly, 
Nora  responded  to  introductions.  Edith  gave  a 
quick  glance  to  assure  herself  that  the  Callot 
treasure  had  not  been  tampered  with,  then  flashed 
her  a  radiant  smile. 

Nora's  dinner-partner  was  the  best-looking  man 
in  the  room.  He  was  exactly  the  "Prince"  of  her 
maiden  dreams.  She  had  never  supposed  that  a 
real  man  could  be  so  handsome  and  so  debonair. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  115 

Edith,  of  course,  was  paired  with  Reggie  Barklie, 
and  Harry  escorted  a  dashing  little  thing  whose 
audacious  sallies  kept  him  roaring  with  laughter. 
The  conversation  was  all  on  a  very  risque  line. 

"I  woke  before  two,  this  morning,"  began  one 
of  the  women. 

"Was  there  a  dual?"  interposed  someone 
quickly,  and  the  speech  was  greeted  with  screams 
of  laughter.  While  Nora  was  puzzling  her  head 
over  it,  her  companion  spoke  low  in  her  ear. 

"You  think  them  a  bit  ultra,  don't  you,  Mrs. 
Prentiss?  "  he  queried.  "  I  quite  agree  with  you." 

On  looking  up  to  answer,  she  found  him  gazing, 
not  at  her  face,  but  down  at  her  neck  and  bosom. 
During  the  entire  meal,  she  had  this  experience. 
It  confused  her,  and  made  her  queerly  conscious. 

He  did  most  of  the  talking,  but  he  seemed  quite 
content  to  have  it  so.  He  led  the  conversation  by 
very  skilful  degrees  in  that  direction  where  he 
wanted  it  to  go.  And,  much  of  the  time,  he  did 
not  talk  at  all,  but  simply  sat  and  stared  down  at 
her.  Once,  her  napkin  slipped  from  her  lap. 
They  both  stooped  for  it  at  the  same  moment 
and,  their  hands  meeting,  she  felt  hers  squeezed 
and  then  released. 

Her  companion  was  addressed  as  "Roger"  by 
the  entire  crowd.  But  she  noticed  that,  in  no 
instance,  did  he  respond  in  kind.  He  spoke  to 
the  men  by  their  surnames — "Barklie,"  "Little," 
"Furness,"  and  so  on.  And  all  the  women  he 
addressed  by  their  title  of  "Mrs." 


116  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

Stealing  a  glance  at  his  place-card,  Nora  found 
he  was  "  Mr.  Kip."  She  had  not  caught  his  name 
on  introduction.  She  thought  it  an  odd  one. 

All  evening  he  hung  over  her.  Though  they 
did  not  play  at  the  same  table,  he  came  over  and 
watched  her  whenever  he  was  dummy.  And,  if 
he  glanced  across  and  found  her  in  the  same  posi- 
tion, he  would  call  to  her: 

"Do  come  over  here  and  look  at  this  hand,  Mrs. 
Prentiss.  It  is  one  of  the  oddest  I  ever  saw."  Or: 

"Come  and  see  if  you  approve  of  this  lead  of 
Furness',  Mrs.  Prentiss.  I'm  sure  he  is  dreaming." 

At  last  it  was  over.  The  motor  was  ordered 
for  Nora,  and  someone  was  dispatched  for  her 
wrap.  Roger  Kip  came  up  to  her: 

"Just  come  out  on  the  terrace  for  a  moment, 
before  you  go,"  he  begged.  "There  is  the  most 
wonderful  moon  you  ever  saw.  You  won't  need 
your  wrap.  It  is  as  warm  as  June." 

He  had  evidently  been  reconnoitring,  for  this 
was  his  first  visit  to  Littlecrest  and  hfe  knew  exactly 
how  to  lead  her  to  a  clump  of  shade-trees.  After 
a  few  stock  remarks  about  the  moon,  he  stood 
silently  looking  down  at  her.  Suddenly,  he  stooped 
and  kissed  her  bare  neck  hotly  and  rapidly,  three 
successive  times.  The  first  kiss  was  at  the  base 
of  her  pretty  throat  and,  at  each  successive  kiss, 
his  head  dropped  lower. 

It  was  her  Baptism  by  Fire. 

"Stop,"  she  cried,  "stop!  Oh,  how  can  you 
do  such  a  thing!  How  dare  you!" 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  117 

He  looked  up,  taking  this  as  a  perfunctory  pro- 
test, and  prepared  to  make  the  perfunctory  apo- 
logy prior  to  an  assault  on  her  lips.  To  his  intense 
surprise,  he  saw  that  she  was  actually  on  the  verge 
of  tears. 

"Forgive me,"  he  cried.  "I  was  beside  myself. 
You  looked  so  sweet.  And  I  had  no  idea  you'd 
mind,  really."  Then  after  a  moment,  in  which 
Nora  struggled  with  herself,  he  continued:  "But 
if  you  are  that  kind  of  a  woman,  why  in  God's  name 
do  you  wear  that  kind  of  a  dress?" 

"Edith  made  me,"  she  whispered.  "It's  hers, 
I  never  wanted  to  wear  it.  But  she  made  me. 
It  was  that,  or  stay  at  home." 

"You  poor  little  thing,"  he  said,  taking  her 
hand.  "You  sweet  little  baby.  There,  don't 
draw  your  hand  away.  I  won't  hurt  you.  I'm 
more  sorry  than  I  can  say.  Try  to  forgive  me, 
and  some  day,  when  we  meet  again,  we  will  begin 
all  over,  and  begin  right." 

"We  shall  never  meet  again,"  she  told  him 
"never." 

"Don't  you  believe  it,"  he  contradicted.  "In- 
deed we  shall.  I'm  in  the  habit  of  getting  what 
I  want,  and  I  want  this  most  awfully.  Now," 
holding  her  back  forcibly  as  she  started  to  move 
towards  the  house,  "promise  me,  Mrs.  Prentiss, 
that  you  will  forgive  me,  and  that  when  we  next 
meet  you'll  be  my  friend  and  we'll  start  fair.  Do 
you  promise?" 

She  nodded  yes. 


Ii8  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

"And  that  you  won't  forget  me?"  he  insisted. 
"I'll  never  forget  you,"  she  breathed. 

She  could  never  remember  her  farewells  and 
her  exit  from  the  house.  She  moved  through  them 
like  an  automaton.  She  hoped,  afterwards,  that 
she  had  done  the  right  things.  She  supposed  she 
must  have  done  them,  because  she  remembered 
no  surprise  on  the  part  of  any  one.  She  had  prob- 
ably said  good-night,  because  it  was  the  habit  of  a 
life-time  to  take  leave  of  people  when  departing 
from  their  homes.  But  she  had  no  memory  of 
anything  between  the  moment  she  re-entered  the 
Littles'  house  with  Roger  Kip,  and  her  later  en- 
trance into  the  familiar  setting  of  her  own  home. 

All  night  she  dozed  in  feverish  fits,  dreaming  of 
him,  waking  to  remember  him,  going  over  his 
every  word  and  gesture. 

This,  though  she  did  not  realize  it,  was  the  com- 
bined result  of  extreme  self-consciousness  and 
excessive  vanity.  Nora  would  have  told  you 
that  she  was  the  least  vain  woman  in  the  world. 
Her  husband  would  have  corroborated  her.  So, 
too,  probably,  would  her  new  friends.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  she  was  vain  to  a  degree.  She 
was  forever  thinking  of  herself,  forever  wondering 
what  impression  she  was  making  on  others.  She 
never  lost  her  Ego  in  the  effect  that  others  pro- 
duced on  her.  Never !  She  was  always  wanting  to 
appear  well,  always  trying  to  do  the  right  thing, 
and  hoping  to  be  admired  for  doing  it. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  119 

Here  was  a  man  of  a  different  type  from  any 
she  had  yet  seen.  He  was  evidently  one  of  a 
class.  Everyone  admired  him.  And  he,  most 
marvellously,  admired  Nora.  (Her  surprise  in 
the  fact  was  a  sure  indication,  in  her  own  eyes, 
of  her  lack  of  vanity.) 

Had  she  done  the  right  thing  ?  Had  she  looked 
silly  to  cry?  Was  it  countrified  and  prudish  to 
be  shocked  by  a  kiss?  Was  he  laughing  at  her 
now?  Or  would  he  admire  her  the  more,  for  her 
modesty?  He  had  seemed  disgusted  at  the  lack 
of  it  in  the  other  women.  Oh,  if  she  only  knew 
what  impression  she  had  created  on  him!  She 
felt  as  if  the  torturing  doubt  would  kill  her. 

Towards  daybreak,  she  rose  and  pinned  to  the 
outside  of  her  door  a  request  that  she  should  not 
be  disturbed.  Then  she  darkened  the  room,  tried 
a  towel  over  her  eyes  and  ears,  and  fell  into  a 
troubled  sleep. 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  she  finally  opened  her 
eyes.  The  motoring-party  was  miles  on  its  way. 

There  was  not  a  waking  moment  during  the 
next  fortnight  that  Roger  Kip  was  actually  out 
of  Nora's  mind.  Her  husband  returned,  they 
resumed  their  golf  with  renewed  fervour,  and  the 
days  rolled  by.  Finally,  at  the  end  of  fifteen  or 
sixteen  days,  she  heard  that  the  Littles  were  back. 
She  could  hardly  wait  to  see  Edith. 

In  their  first  tete-cl-tete,  she  got  all  she  was  hoping 
for,  and  a  little  more. 


I2O  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"My  dear,"  announced  Edith,  "Roger  Kip  is 
simply  mad  about  you.  He  talked  about  you 
all  the  time.  You  know  he's  no  end  of  a  swell. 
He  rarely  deigns  to  travel  with  our  crowd.  But, 
just  at  present,  he  is  'out  of  a  job,'  so  to  speak. 
And  he  came  with  us  to  kill  time,  I  imagine.  I 
put  him  next  you  at  dinner,  that  night,  simply 
because  he  is  so  very  'choose-y, '  and  I  didn't 
suppose  you  would  ever  meet  him  again.  He 
despises  most  of  the  women  in  our  crowd.  And  of 
course,  I  couldn't  take  care  of  him;  my  hands  were 
full.  And  he  disapproves  of  Mama  and  Aunt 
Evelyn." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  saying  he  is  'out  of  a 
job'?"  asked  Nora,  with  lowered  eyes. 

"Oh,  he's  been  desperately  in  love  with  a 
New  York  woman  for  five  or  six  years.  She  is  a 
perfect  beauty  and  a  howling  swell.  And  they've 
been  fooling  her  husband  most  successfully.  But 
suddenly,  he  woke  up  and  whisked  Madame  off 
to  Europe —  And  Roger's  own  wife  is  a  perfect 
devil.  She  has  the  most  awful  temper.  There's 
a  divorce  coming  there  soon, — they  don't  hit  it 
off,  at  all." 

Nora  had  just  caught  herself  in  time  to  save  an 
exclamation  of  surprise  at  Edith's  mention  of 
Roger's  wife.  Her  heart,  however,  sank  within 
her,  and  she  felt  cold  and  miserable.  Had  he  been 
making  game  of  her  ? 

She  carried  home  two  very  disagreeable  impres- 
sions with  which  to  busy  herself. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  121 

First,  Roger  Kip's  wife  and,  even  more,  his 
inamorata.  It  would  have  been  hard  for  her  to 
tell  why  these  should  worry  her.  She,  herself, 
being  a  married  woman  with  the  most  honourable 
standards,  could  not  consistently  entertain  the 
thought  of  even  the  most  despairing  of  lovers. 
Nevertheless,  Edith's  news  was  distinctly  dis- 
agreeable to  her. 

Fainter,  at  first,  but  gradually  growing  more 
and  more  insistent  as  Roger's  memory  receded 
little  by  little  into  the  background,  was  the  unwel- 
come news  that  there  was  a  set  in  society  more 
fashionable,  and  more  desirable,  than  that  repre- 
sented by  Edith  and  her  parents.  Nora  had 
always  supposed  them  to  be  the  first  flower  of 
American  aristocracy — welcomed  in  any  circle 
which  they  deigned  to  enter.  It  was  horribly 
unpleasant  to  find  herself  mistaken. 

She  opened  a  subscription  to  a  New  York 
society  journal,  copies  of  which  were  constantly 
to  be  found  in  Edith's  boudoir.  Nora's  own  copies 
were  always  kept  hidden  and  read  in  secret.  In 
their  columns,  she  never  found  mention  of  Edith, 
her  family,  nor  any  of  the  friends  to  whom  she 
had  ever  introduced  Nora,  except  Roger  Kip. 
And,  all  his  doings  being  faithfully  chronicled, 
Nora  was  able  to  follow  them  and  to  learn  of  his 
speedy  divorce.  She  wished  she  could  read  of 
the  death  of  his  married  beauty.  But,  unfor- 
tunately, Edith  had  not  mentioned  her  name, 
and  Nora  was  too  conscious,  and  too  shy,  to  ask  it. 


122  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

This  thought,  however,  was  definitely,  though 
subconsciously,  forming  in  her  mind.  If  Roger 
Kip  were  a  representative  of  the  most  exclusive 
and  fashionable  class  in  American  society,  if  he 
admired  her,  if  he  remembered  her,  if  she  ever 
met  him  again,  why  would  he  not  prove  her  open 
sesame  to  that  charmed  circle  of  which  she  dreamed 
and  dreamed,  and  dreamed? 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN  late  May  Dr.  Hillier  reported  progress  in 
Robert  Prentiss's  state  of  health,  but  absolutely 
commanded  a  two-months'  trip  to  Europe.  In 
June,  the  Littles  took  flight  (Harry  having  trained 
a  man  to  replace  him  temporarily);  but,  before 
they  went,  Edith  and  her  mother  and  her  aunt 
imparted  much  valuable  information  to  Nora. 
She  was  crammed  with  advice  and  stuffed  with 
addresses. 

And,  in  mid- July,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  Prentiss 
actually  sailed  for  Europe. 

Early  in  their  arrangements,  the  question  of 
the  children  had,  naturally,  arisen.  Nora  was 
strong  in  her  fear  of  the  dangers  of  travel  for  them. 
Their  father  agreed,  but  failed  to  see  how  they 
could  be  left  behind. 

"Mother  will  take  care  of  them,  I'm  sure," 
Nora  assured  him.  "She  took  care  of  me  all  my 
life,  so  I  guess  she's  able.  And  she  has  time  on  her 
hands,  now,  and  would  be  glad  of  an  interest. 
Maggie  will  stay  with  the  children,  and  she  knows 
all  their  ways  and  all  my  ways.  Or  we  can  get  a 
trained  nurse,  if  it  would  make  you  and  mother 
more  comfortable." 

123 


124  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"No,  I  guess  your  mother'll  be  all  right,"  agreed 
her  husband,  "if  you  think  she'll  undertake  it. 
She's  getting  pretty  old,  by  now,  for  that  respon- 
sibility." 

"Maggie  will  do  everything." 

"Suppose  something  should  happen  to  the 
children,  with  us  so  far  away  and  not  able  to  get 
back  quickly." 

"What  should  happen?  Nothing  ever  has. 
Why  should  it,  just  because  we  are  not  here?" 
Then,  feeling  that  she  was  appearing  too  callous 
she  took  another  tack.  "You  know,  Bob,  I  have 
two  children,  but  only  one  husband.  Dear  as 
the  babies  are  to  me,  I  feel  that  your  health  is  the 
most  important  thing  in  the  world  to  all  of  us." 

Somehow,  this  didn't  make  quite  the  same  over- 
whelming impression  on  him  as  it  would  have  done 
a  year  previously.  However,  he  yielded,  and 
that  was  the  main  thing. 

Nora  wrote  a  note  begging  her  mother  to  come 
over,  the  next  morning  "  on  a  matter  of  importance 
and  for  the  sake  of  old  times."  The  entrance  to 
the  home  of  her  maidenhood  being  barred  to  her 
by  her  father's  interdiction,  this  was  her  sole 
possible  course. 

Mrs.  Brewster  was  "real  flustered"  at  the  re- 
ceipt of  the  note.  She  wisely  decided  to  mention 
it  to  no  one  until  she  had  discovered  whether  it 
was  necessary,  as  well  as  the  nature  of  the  "im- 
portant matter." 

She  came  home  from  her  interview  very  happy. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  125 

Being  a  firm  believer  in  the  value  of  moral  prin- 
ciples inculcated  in  early  infancy,  she  felt  that 
Providence  had  chosen  her  as  a  special  agent.  The 
fact  that  her  theories  had  not  worked  in  "Ellie's" 
case,  in  no  wise  deteriorated  from  their  importance 
in  her  eyes.  She  now  saw  a  chance  to  "save" 
Ellie's  children  by  converting  them  in  babyhood. 
She  accepted  the  charge,  declining  the  trained 
nurse  with  a  contemptuous  sniff,  but  agreeing  to 
Maggie,  with  the  proviso  that  she  sleep  at  her 
own  home  in  the  village.  The  children  and  their 
belongings  were  to  be  moved  to  their  grand- 
parents' house,  and  it  would  not  accommodate 
two  servants. 

Mrs.  Brewster  went  home  to  wheedle  her  hus- 
band and  convince  her  daughter-in-law.  Thus 
was  Nora's  battle  won,  and  she  and  her  hus- 
band were  free  to  enter  upon  the  most  wonderful 
experience  of  their  lives. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  dilate  upon  the  "broaden- 
ing" effect  of  travel.  It  is  an  axiomatic  truth, 
constantly  re-emphasized,  and  doubted  by  no 
one.  From  the  moment  when  Robert  Prentiss 
boarded  that  ocean  liner,  the  scales  began  to  fall 
from  his  eyes,  till  he  wondered  what  were  scales 
and  what  were  not.  Principles  which  he  had 
never  heard  questioned,  the  acceptance  of  which 
he  had  always  regarded  as  practically  universal 
among  right-thinking  persons,  he  now  found  dis- 
regarded or  smiled  upon.  And  that,  too,  by  those 
whose  opinions  he  could  not  fail  to  respect.  On 


126  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

the  decks,  and  in  the  smoking-room,  he  came  into 
contact  with  men  whose  views  were  quoted  and 
whose  names  were  mentioned  with  deference 
on  two  continents.  They  all  smoked,  they  all 
drank,  they  all  played  cards — as  a  matter  of 
course.  No  one  cared  what  he  did,  no  one  t/ied 
to  convert  him;  but  amongst  the  jokes  bandied 
about,  there  were  not  a  few  that  took  their  point 
from  ridicule  of  those  views  that  he  had  always 
held  so  strenuously. 

Arrived  on  the  other  side,  Nora  performed  her 
part  nobly.  It  took  a  clever  woman  to  do  what 
she  did,  without  former  experience.  While  she 
still  retained,  to  some  extent,  her  interest  in  "scen- 
ery," that  in  cathedrals  and  museums  seemed  to 
have  vanished.  Art-galleries  received  a  moderate, 
hurried  attention.  But  persons  and  places  called 
her  irresistibly. 

She  reasoned  rightly  that,  after  seeing  the 
gambling  in  Monte  Carlo,  a  private  game  of  cards 
would  no  longer  give  her  husband  the  same  shock ; 
that  Paris,  and  Deauville,  and  Trouville,  must 
considerably  modify  his  views  of  proper  dress- 
ing for  women;  that  London  restaurants  and 
theatres  would  show  him  what  the  world  de- 
manded in  the  way  of  costume.  And  so  on, 
indefinitely. 

She  bought  some  clothes  in  Paris,  and  he  bought 
some  in  London.  He  was  persuaded  to  his  first 
evening-clothes.  The  first  time  he  donned  them 
he  felt  "like  a  monkey — or  a  waiter."  Soon,  he 


THe   Road  to  Mecca  127 

dressed  in  the  evening  as  a  matter  of  course,  and 
liked  it. 

They  returned  to  Allenbury  in  September,  a 
very  much  awakened  couple.  Neither  of  them 
talked  a  great  deal  about  private  feelings,  but 
both  of  them  were  more  or  less  prepared  for  almost 
any  development  on  the  part  of  the  other. 

There  was  a  month  of  readjustment  to  old  ties, 
of  picking  up  of  accustomed  threads,  of  resumed 
business  for  the  husband  and  frenzied  remaking 
of  clothes  for  the  wife — and  of  motoring,  and  golf, 
and  Country  Club  life  for  both.  And  then  the 
Little  household  returned. 

Edith  was  heart-broken  to  be  forced  to  come 
back.  She  had  had  "a  heavenly  summer"  and 
she  hated  Allenbury.  She  soon  confided  to  Nora 
that  it  was  to  be  her  last  winter  in  the  village,  and 
that  she  expected  to  spend  as  little  of  it  there  as 
possible. 

"My  dear,  I  just  told  Harry  he  could  take  his 
choice  between  Allenbury  and  me.  I  simply  will 
not  live  here.  Why  should  I?  I  shall  be  young 
only  once,  and  I  might  as  well  be  dead  and  buried 
as  to  be  landed  down  here." 

"Where  will  you  go?"  asked  Nora  with  a  sink- 
ing heart. 

"New  York,  or  somewhere  near  it.  It  is  the 
only  place  in  the  world  to  live.  Unless  you  live 
abroad." 

"What  will  Harry  do?  I  mean  what  business 
will  he  be  in?" 


128  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Oh,  stocks,  I  suppose.  He  will  be  on  the 
Street.  I  hope  he  can  persuade  his  father  to  buy 
him  a  seat  on  the  Exchange.  At  the  worst,  he 
will  have  to  go  into  some  broker's  office.  If  he  stays 
here,  he  will  stay  as  a  grass-widower,  that  is  cer- 
tain. I  will  not  stay  with  him." 

"What  in  the  world  will  I  do  without  you?" 
wailed  Nora.  Her  voice  was  so  mournful  that 
Edith  suddenly  looked  at  her. 

"You  poor  little  thing,"  she  sympathized  impul- 
sively, "you  will  miss  us,  and  that's  a  fact.  It 
will  be  deadly  for  you.  Of  course  you  have  the 
Maplehurst  set,  and  the  Club,  and  you  could 
come  and  visit  me,  now  and  then.  But  your  life 
here  would  be  awful.  Why  don't  you  leave,  too? 
You  don't  expect  to  spend  your  entire  life  in 
Allenbury,  do  you?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Nora  responded  dejectedly. 
"I  suppose  so.  Where  should  we  go?" 

"Well,  if  you  ask  me,  I  should  think  any  place 
would  be  better  than  this.  Just  put  your  wits 
to  work  and  see  if  you  can't  think  of  something." 

By  dint  of  promises  of  various  trips,  and  of  a 
six-weeks'  stay  in  the  South  after  the  New  Year, 
Edith  was  induced  to  spend  that  one  winter  in 
Allenbury.  That  was  the  extent  of  her  conces- 
sion and,  in  return  for  it,  she  demanded  many 
favours.  She  ran  to  New  York  at  least  once  every 
month  and  stayed  four  or  five  days  every  time 
she  went.  She  always  returned  depressed,  and 
more  disgusted  than  ever  with  Allenbury.  She 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  129 

bought  quantities  of  clothes  and  then  complained 
that  she  had  nowhere  to  wear  them.  Poor  Harry 
Little's  life  was  not  a  bed  of  roses. 

The  Littles  and  the  Prentisses  spent  much  time 
at  the  Maplehurst  Club.  Nora  joined  a  dancing- 
class  that  was  forming  there.  The  trip  abroad 
had  paved  the  way  to  Bob's  consent  to  this  new 
pastime,  and  it  was  therefore  not  specially  hard 
to  gain — particularly,  since  "the  old  folks"  could 
scarcely  come  to  hear  of  it.  Nora  worked  hard  at 
her  new  undertaking,  and,  in  time,  she  came  to 
dance  fairly  well.  But  in  this  she  never  compared 
with  Edith  who  danced  like  a  fairy.  Nora  began 
too  late;  and  she  had  never  been  a  devotee  of 
physical  exercise.  Motion  was  Edith's  great 
forte,  and  she  was  always  graceful. 

Sometime  late  in  the  following  March,  just  after 
Edith's  return  from  Florida,  her  husband  said 
to  her: 

"Why  don't  you  persuade  the  Prentisses  to 
move  to  New  York  with  us?" 

' ' The  Prentisses? ' '  she  echoed.     "But  why ? ' ' 

"Well,  why  not?  You  and  Nora  are  great 
pals.  And,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  thought  Pren- 
tiss  and  I  might  pull  off  something  together.  He's 
got  a  pile  saved  up  already,  and  he  has  a  lot  better 
head  than  I'll  ever  have.  He  can't  be  expecting 
to  spend  all  his  days  here.  And  if  my  Old  Man 
cuts  up  Dutch,  as  I  expect  he  will  when  he  hears 
the  news,  it  might  be  well  to  have  something  to 
fall  back  on.  The  Old  Man  will  come  round  in 


130  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

time,  all  right,  but  maybe  not  just  at  first.  He 
can  be  meaner  than  dog-pie  when  he  once  makes 
up  his  mind." 

And  so  the  scheme  was  broached  to  Bob  and 
Nora.  Nora  seized  it  as  a  drowning  man  seizes 
a  rope.  She  had  been  carrying  a  very  heavy 
heart  around  with  her,  and  the  future  looked 
terribly  dark. 

But  her  husband  shook  his  head.  "Not  yet," 
he  answered.  " Some  day,  perhaps.  But  I'm  not 
ready  yet." 

At  home  she  assailed  him  with  it. 

"What  did  you  mean  by  saying  'not  yet'  to 
that  New  York  scheme?  Are  we  going  there 
some  day?" 

"Perhaps,"  he  smiled.     "Would  you  like  to?" 

"Would  I  like  it!  But  when?  What  does  it 
depend  on?" 

' '  On  money.  New  York  is,  of  course,  the  city 
of  the  greatest  opportunities  for  any  American 
business-man.  Sooner  or  later  he  must  come 
into  touch  with  it,  if  he  has  big  schemes  on  hand. 
But  it  is  also  the  city  that  asks  the  most  money 
as  the  price  of  success.  I  can't  go  till  I'm  sure 
I  have  the  price." 

For  once  in  her  life,  Nora  Prentiss  was  impatient. 
Edith  had  so  thoroughly  inoculated  her  with  the 
doctrine  that  "one  is  young  but  once,"  she  feared 
to  see  her  life  pass  drearily. 

"But  how  long  will  it  be?"  she  insisted  fever- 
ishly. "How  long  will  we  have  to  wait?" 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  131 

"I  can't  tell,"  he  answered.  "I  have  no  idea. 
It  depends  on  how  things  go.  This  is  my  end, 
Nora.  You  can't  interfere  with  it.  I  have  let 
you  run  your  end  according  to  your  own  ideas. 
You  must  leave  mine  to  me."  And  with  that  she 
was  forced  to  content  herself. 

About  this  time  Edith  told  her  that  she  had 
chosen  the  place  of  her  future  residence. 

"We're  going  to  Maynardstown,"  she  an- 
nounced. "It  is  one  of  the  most  fashionable 
places  near  New  York,  and  the  best  possible 
entrance  to  smart  New  York  society.  It  is  beauti- 
ful there ;  wonderful  homes,  and  a  perfectly  corking 
Country  Club.  Of  course,  it  would  be  awfully 
hard  to  get  in,  except  that  Aunt  Evelyn's  in-laws, 
— the  Paynes, — all  live  there.  They  are  all 
members,  of  course,  and  they've  promised  to  see 
to  our  membership.  I'm  crazy  about  it  all. 
You'd  better  come,  too,  Nora.  I'm  sure  your 
names  could  be  put  up  at  the  same  time." 

"Oh,  I'd  love  to,"  cried  Nora,  "I'd  simply 
love  to !  But  when  it  comes  to  a  matter  of  business 
I  have  no  influence  whatever  with  Bob." 

"And  a  mighty  good  thing  for  you  that  you 
haven't,"  returned  Edith.  "Be  thankful  that 
you  have  a  husband  who  can  make  money  on  his 
own  account.  And  the  more  he  makes,  the  better 
it  will  be  for  you,  whenever,  or  wherever,  you  go. 
Maynardstown  is  awfully  expensive,  you  know. 
But  it  is  less  than  an  hour  out  of  New  York. 
Think  of  the  bliss!" 


132  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

She  left  Nora  a  prey  to  restlessness.  She 
could  not  stay  here  after  Edith  had  gone.  It  would 
be  too  unkind  a  trick  of  Fate!  To  lead  her  to 
the  border  of  the  Promised  Land,  to  give  her  a 
peep  into  its  hallowed  interior,  and  then  to  leave 
her  forsaken  and  lonely  outside  the  sacred  gates! 
It  would  be  more  than  she  could  bear. 


CHAPTER  XV 

EARLY  in  May,  Robert  Prentiss  was  again  called 
to  Ohio.  It  seemed  to  be  written  that  he  should 
perform  this  yearly  pilgrimage. 

He  went  in  obedience  to  a  telegram,  which  said 
simply : 

"Come  at  once.     Important. 

"HANNAH." 

And  he  arrived  to  find  his  sister  ill  with  what 
proved  to  be  her  mortal  illness.  He  stayed  and 
nursed  her  through  it  and  saw  her  laid  to  rest. 
Then,  to  Nora's  surprise,  he  continued  to  stay. 
He  wrote  her  frequently,  but  his  letters  were  not 
very  illuminating  as  to  the  cause  of  his  repeated 
postponements  of  the  date  of  return.  She  sup- 
posed he  was  winding  up  the  business  of  the  farm, 
and,  possibly,  preparing  to  sell  it.  She  hoped  so. 

Then  a  telegram  apprised  her  of  his  intended 
return,  and,  on  the  next  day  but  one,  he  was  with 
her. 

He  talked  very  little  until  they  had  settled  down 
for  the  evening. 

"Nora,"  he  then  said  gravely,"!  have  some- 
133 


134  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

thing  to  tell  you.  Do  you  remember  when  you 
begged  me  not  to  sell  the  farm  and  turn  Hannah 
out  of  the  only  home  she  had  ever  known,  or  could 
ever  be  happy  in?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied. 

"Well,  a  blessing  has  been  laid  on  the  kindness 
of  your  heart." 

(The  kindness  of  her  heart  /) 

"  If  I  had  sold  the  farm  then,  I  should  have  sold 
it  for  very  little — just  the  price  of  ordinary  farm- 
land. That  was  all  that  any  one  thought  it  was 
worth.  But  it  has  turned  out  differently " 

He  stopped  and  cleared  his  throat.  He  was 
evidently  labouring  with  great  emotion.  At  last 
he  continued: 

"Coal  has  been  found  under  all  that  land;  one 
of  the  richest  veins  in  the  State.  It  is  now  worth 
a  fortune." 

She  had  risen,  and  was  standing  in  the  dusk  with 
her  hand  at  her  throat.  She  felt  as  if  she  could 
hardly  breathe. 

"And  we  are  rich?"  she  asked  in  a  low  tone, 
"really  rich?" 

"We  are  really  rich,"  he  answered  solemnly. 
"Really  rich.  And  I  shall  know  how  to  hold,  how 
to  develop,  how  to  sell,  and  I  have  the  money 
back  of  me  to  do  it.  My  chance  has  come,  and, 
thank  God,  I  am  ready  for  it!" 

His  chance  had  come!  His  many  chances  had 
come!  And  for  all  of  them  had  he  been  ready. 

How  gradual  the  steps  had  seemed  at  the  time 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  135 

of  their  taking,  and  how  swift  they  looked  in  re- 
trospect !  First,  the  small  accumulation  of  capital 
out  in  Ohio — very  tiny  and  hoarded  at  infinite 
pains;  then  the  ten  years  of  "starting  things" 
with  this  small  capital;  then  the  inherited  hard- 
ware business;  the  building  up  of  the  huge 
private  commission-trade;  the  acquiring  of 
several  tremendously  remunerative  patents;  the 
purchase  of  the  trolley-land  and  the  directorship 
in  the  trolley  company;  the  stock  in  the  Maple- 
hurst  canning-factories  and  glass-works;  and 
now,  enormous  private  coal-interests.  He  had 
"made  good." 

They  talked  for  a  time  in  rather  hushed  voices 
and  with  long  lapses  into  silence.  Their  minds 
were  more  busy  than  their  tongues.  Finally, 
Nora  asked: 

"And  we  can  leave  here,  before  long?" 
"In   the   autumn,"   he   answered.      "October, 
at  the  latest,  I  should  say." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THUS  in  the  autumn,  the  Prentisses  made  their 
exodus  from  Allenbury.  Nora's  heart  grew  lighter 
with  every  additional  mile  that  separated  her 
from  her  old  home.  She  could  hardly  contain 
her  excitement. 

The  Littles  had  preceded  them  by  two  months. 
And  Edith  had  secured  for  Bob  and  Nora  a  fur- 
nished house  that  they  were  to  occupy  during 
their  first  winter,  while  they  looked  around  for 
a  permanent  home  and  collected  the  belongings 
necessary  to  fill  it. 

"It  is  a  stunning  little  place  that  I've  found  for 
you,"  Edith  had  written.  "Not  so  very  little 
either,  yet  not  too  big.  Just  right  for  a  beginning. 
Then  you  can  decide,  later,  what  you  want." 

The  rent  of  this  stunning  little  place  had  stag- 
gered Nora;  but  her  husband  had  accepted  it 
stoically. 

"I  have  the  price,"  he  kept  saying.  "We'll 
have  to  alter  all  our  old  ideas  about  money,  Nora. 
New  York  isn't  Allenbury.  And  Tve  got  the 
stuff!" 

Edith  had  also  three  servants  waiting  for  them. 
She  was  a  jewel  of  a  friend,  and  she  loved  to 

136 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  137 

manage.  Maggie  had  been  retained  because  the 
children  were  used  to  her.  Being  young,  she  was 
adaptable,  and  she  was  rising  as  rapidly  in  her 
scale  as  was  Nora,  herself,  in  hers. 

The  remaining  vacancies  in  the  domestic  corps 
were  to  be  filled  by  Nora  at  her  leisure.  Jane  had 
been  dismissed.  Nora  would  need  a  much  grander 
type  of  person  at  the  head  of  her  new  menage. 

The  Country  Club  business  was  also  well  under 
way.  Edith  had  let  no  grass  grow  under  her  feet. 
When  it  came  to  a  question  of  social  push,  she 
and  her  mother  were  hard  to  beat. 

As  the  Prentiss  family  drove  up  to  their  own 
door,  one  late  October  evening,  the  Littles  were 
on  the  piazza  to  welcome  them.  The  house  blazed 
with  lights  and  the  new  servants  were  standing  in 
the  background  waiting  to  be  presented  to  their 
master  and  mistress.  Huge  bowls  of  flowers  were 
everywhere,  placed  by  Edith's  clever  hands. 
The  Littles  announced  themselves  as  impromptu 
dinner-guests  and  said  they  had  brought  the  meal 
with  them. 

"We  thought  it  would  be  so  much  more  fun 
than  dining  at  our  house,"  Edith  commented, 
"just  like  a  picnic  and  a  welcome  at  the  same 
time." 

She  and  Nora  had  fallen  into  each  other's  arms, 
in  a  long  embrace.  There  was  no  remaining  touch 
of  patronage  about  Edith  (no  matter  how  uncon- 
scious, it  had  always  been  there,  heretofore). 
Now,  she  and  Nora  were  equals.  Edith,  of  course, 


138  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

was  still  the  more  experienced  and  sophisticated 
of  the  two.  But,  to  the  eye  of  a  stranger,  that 
would  never  be  apparent,  so  rapidly  had  Nora 
learned.  And,  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  Edith  knew 
that,  in  one  way,  Nora  had  the  advantage  of  her. 
Nora  had  but  to  make  her  way  into  the  Holy  of 
Holies,  unhampered  by  any  past  bonds  or  tradi- 
tions. While  Edith,  though  she  would  now  have 
bitten  out  her  tongue  rather  than  admit  it, 
would  be  compelled  to  get  rid  of  one  set  of  friends 
and  associations,  in  order  to  gain  a  more  desirable 
one.  She  must  "shake  a  set,"  in  order  to  "make 
a  set."  That  is  sometimes  difficult. 

There  was  a  noisy,  excited,  cursory  examination 
of  the  house.  Maggie  and  the  children  were  left 
in  their  apartments  where  a  simple  meal  was  to 
be  served  to  them.  Edith  was  nothing  if  not  practi- 
cal. Give  her  money  enough  and  she  could  do 
anything.  When  once  her  interest  was  aroused, 
she  never  forgot  a  detail. 

"And  you  like  it?"  she  kept  asking  Nora. 
"You  are  satisfied?" 

"Satisfied?  It  is  simply  perfect,  Edith.  It 
seems  as  if  you  must  have  had  it  made  to  order." 

"There  is  an  excellent  garage,"  Edith  informed 
her,  "as  well  as  a  stable.  Your  husband  told 
Harry  he  hoped  to  go  in  now  for  racing-horses, 
just  a  bit.  So  we  thought  of  that  in  looking  for 
the  place." 

"You  are  too  good,"  Nora  kept  repeating.  The 
mention  of  the  horses  was  news  to  her. 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  139 

She  had  taken  off  her  hat  and  wraps  and  she 
and  Edith  were  going  down  the  wide  stairs  arm- 
in-arm,  Bob  following  in  their  wake.  Harry  had 
disappeared  some  moments  before. 

He  met  them  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  with  a  tray 
of  cocktails. 

"Prentiss,"  he  laughed,  "we  took  the  liberty  of 
bringing  our  own  drinks  for  our  own  consumption, 
and  to  pledge  your  health,  and  luck  to  your  new 
home.  I  mixed  one  for  you  because  it  looked 
better;  but  of  course  you  won't  take  it." 

"I  don't  think  I  can  pass  that  toast,  Little," 
replied  his  host.  And  to  Nora's  speechless  amaze- 
ment, her  husband  put  out  his  hand  and  took  a 
glass.  "I  may  not  like  your  drink,"  he  said, 
"but  I  certainly  like  your  good  wishes.  And  I'll 
pledge  you  with  a  sip." 

So  it  happened  that  liquor  was  first  served  under 
Robert  Prentiss's  roof,  and  that  he  broke  the 
pledge  which  he  had  signed  when  a  boy  of  twelve. 

Nora's  heart  was  beating  so  that  she  thought 
everyone  must  hear  it.  Not  even  her  own  first 
cocktail  had  affected  her  as  did  this  of  her  hus- 
band. 

She  looked  at  the  two  men  as  they  stood  side 
by  side  in  front  of  the  open  fire,  glass  in  hand. 
Harry  Little  was  much  the  taller  of  the  two.  He 
was  well  over  six  feet,  with  a  loosely-hung  body 
and  a  bluntly-moulded,  ugly,  good-natured  face. 
In  spite  of  his  height,  he  gave  no  impression  of 
power. 


140  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Robert  Prentiss  was  shorter  by  several  inches. 
But  his  keen  clever  face,  his  well-knit  frame,  his 
every  movement,  showed  controlled  vigour.  It 
was  apparent  that  in  years  to  come  he  would  be 
described  as  a  "portly"  man,  but  just  now  he  was 
in  the  pink  of  physical  condition.  To  Nora's 
critical  eyes,  he  still  had  a  slightly  countrified 
look.  He  held  his  glass  clumsily  (small  wonder) . 
He  didn't  yet  wear  his  clothes  as  easily  as  did  the 
men  in  Edith's  rapid  set,  and  he  suffered  from 
occasional  awkward  fits  of  silence.  Her  work  was 
by  no  means  finished,  but  it  was  well  under 
way,  as  witness  the  cocktail  in  her  husband's 
hand,  and  the  room  in  which  he  stood! 

It  is  doubtful  if  Heaven  will  be  able  to  make  a 
better  impression  on  Nora  Prentiss  than  did 
Maynardstown  and  New  York.  She  was  abso- 
lutely dazzled  by  them. 

First  came  the  engaging  of  her  new  servants. 
She  was  to  have  a  wonderful  staff.  A  trained 
nurse  was  to  preside  over  the  nursery,  with  Maggie 
as  her  underling.  But  the  chief  treasure,  in  Nora's 
eyes,  was  her  French  maid,  Therese. 

Although  Therese  spoke  English,  her  mistress 
was  determined  to  be  able  to  converse  with  her 
in  French.  She  therefore  began  at  once  on  a 
course  of  French  lessons  which,  to  her  credit  be 
it  said,  were  never  abandoned  until  she  spoke  and 
read  French  as  fluently  as  the  average  woman  in 
smart  society.  Nora's  French  teacher  and  her 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  141 

masseuse  were  two  persons  who  were  never  kept 
waiting. 

Bob's  "end"  came  next. 

"I  want  you  to  come  with  me,  Nora,  to  choose 
a  couple  of  cars,"  he  told  her.  "I  shall  motor  to 
and  from  town  as  long  as  the  weather  holds  good. 
And,  of  course,  you  will  need  a  car  for  your  own 
use.  Two  will  do,  just  at  first,  until  we  get  time 
to  look  into  things." 

"What  are  you  going  to  get?"  she  asked. 

"What  make,  do  you  mean?" 

"No,  what  style  of  car?" 

"Oh,  I  think  a  big  open  car — probably  an 
eight  passenger — and  a  limousine.  If  I  see  a 
roadster  I  specially  like,  I  may  buy  that,  too." 

In  less  than  a  month  four  cars  stood  in  their 
garage.  This  number  did  not  include  the  little 
Allenbury  car.  That  had  been  sold. 

Clothes  came  next. 

By  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  each  day 
Nora's  boudoir  telephone  would  ring.  Of  course 
it  was  always  Edith.  As  yet  she  was  Nora's  sole 
friend.  Therese  would  appear  with  the  message: 
"Could  Madame  speak  for  a  moment  with  Madame 
Little?" 

Nora  would  jump  from  her  bed  and  fly  to  the 
instrument  to  be  greeted  by  Edith's  merry  voice. 
(Nora  slept  later  now,  and  Bob  ate  a  solitary 
breakfast  before  he  hurried  off  to  town.) 

"Hello,  Nora.  When  will  you  be  ready  to  start 
for  town?  Shall  we  go  in  by  train  or  motor?" 


142  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Oh,  by  train.  We  can  take  a  motor  by  the 
hour  in  New  York." 

Nora  always  chose  the  train,  at  that  period  of 
her  life.  She  loved  it.  She  had  had  so  little  of 
it.  She  wanted  to  study  the  crowds  on  the  plat- 
form and  in  the  car,  to  see  and  to  be  seen.  Of 
what  public  benefit  to  her  was  a  solitary  motor- 
ride  with  Edith? 

"Very  well,"  would  come  Edith's  response. 
"Meet  me  at  the  station,  in  time  for  the  10.38 
train." 

Then  the  shops!  And  the  fittings!  And  the 
bewildering  blissful  knowledge  that  she  could  buy 
anything  she  wanted!  Edith  was  an  expensive 
guide. 

"Of  course  you'll  need  that,  Nora.  You  look 
simply  stunning  in  it.  You  can't  possibly  have 
too  many  clothes.  You  know  we  are  to  be  very 
gay  when  people  get  back." 

"When  do  they  come  back?"  asked  Nora. 

"Oh,  the  Horse  Show  sees  everyone  in  town. 
We're  going  to  have  a  box;  are  you?" 

"  I  never  thought  of  it.     Should  I  ?  " 

"No,  on  second  thoughts,  I  believe  not.  Who 
would  sit  in  it?"  She  trilled  a  merry  laugh,  and 
Nora  looked  uncomfortably  at  the  vendeuse  who 
stood  near.  It  took  Nora  a  long  while  to  acquire 
Edith's  indifference  to  subordinates. 

"You'd  better  wait  till  next  year  for  a  box," 
counselled  Edith.  "Then  you'll  be  good  and 
ready.  This  year  you  can  sit  with  us  whenever 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  143 

you  want  to.  Come  on,  do  let's  drive  up  to  Bit- 
ters' and  have  some  luncheon.  I'm  famished." 

At  the  famous  restaurant,  they  always  tried 
to  secure  a  table  near  one  of  the  Fifth  Avenue 
windows.  They  soon  learned  to  telephone  up 
and  have  it  saved  for  them.  Their  waiter  was 
their  slave;  Edith's  generosity  was  proverbial. 

She  always  began  her  luncheons  with  a  "double" 
cocktail,  nowadays.  Once,  and  once  only,  was 
Nora  persuaded  to  do  likewise.  All  afternoon 
she  was  so  sleepy  she  could  hardly  see.  Edith's 
voice  sounded  strange  and  far-away,  and  whenever 
Nora  caught  sight  of  her  own  face  in  a  mirror, 
or  a  window,  it  looked  pale  and  unnatural.  After 
that  day  she  contented  herself  with  a  cocktail 
of  ordinary  size.  Indeed,  it  was  all  that  she  ever 
wanted. 

Excessive  drinking  made  Edith  flushed  and  ani- 
mated; it  made  Nora  pale  and  quiet.  She  could 
commit  no  greater  assault  on  her  looks  and  her 
brain  than  to  drink  more  than  a  moderate  amount. 

One  day,  as  they  sat  at  luncheon,  Edith  sud- 
denly interrupted  her  stream  of  talk  to  say: 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?  You  look 
awfully  queer.  Are  you  choking?" 

Nora  nodded.  "I  think  there  was  a  piece  of 
shell  in  that  lobster,"  she  answered.  "No — 
don't  do  anything;  I'm  all  right  now." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Roger  Kip  in  a  rapidly  passing  hansom  on  the 
avenue. 


144  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

("A  year  and  a  half,"  she  whispered  to  herself. 
"And  then,  nothing  but  a  peep.  I  wonder  if  he 
has  forgotten?  Of  course,  he  has,  though,  else  I 
should  have  heard  from  him.") 


CHAPTER  XVII 

HER  first  Horse  Show  proved  both  bewildering 
and  disappointing  to  Nora.  It  was  not  beautiful 
and  luxurious  like  the  restaurants.  Its  size,  alone, 
was  stunning.  The  women,  gorgeously  apparelled 
though  they  were,  did  not  impress  her  as  she  had 
expected  to  be  impressed.  She  had  not  yet  learned 
to  judge  of  effects  by  what  it  had  cost  to  produce 
them;  in  her  ignorance,  she  still  did  not  recognize 
the  difference  between  the  most  expensive  Russian 
sable,  and  a  cleverly  dyed  imitation.  She  had 
still  to  discover  that,  provided  a  woman  had  a 
certain  position,  she  would  always  be  described 
as  "beautiful,"  or  "stunning,"  or  "lovely." 

Without  realizing  it,  Nora  had  taken  it  as  a 
matter  of  course  that  all  the  feminine  represen- 
tatives of  High  Society  were  physically  lovely. 
It  was  with  a  dazed  wonder  that  she  looked  from 
face  to  face.  Some  real  beauties,  indeed,  there 
were,  but  painfully  few.  There  were  wonderful 
clothes,  wonderful  coiffures,  wonderful  style  and 
grooming;  blazing  scintillating  gems,  she  saw,  in 
abundance;  but  it  was  the  faces  that  she  parti- 
cularly scanned.  She  saw  many  young  and 
blooming  ones,  many  discontented  ones,  many 

10  145 


146  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

supercilious  ones;  some  that  were  haggard,  hun- 
dreds that  were  painted,  a  few  that  were  happy, 
almost  none  that  were  genuinely  unconscious. 
She  saw  women  who  were  thin  to  emaciation,  and 
women  who  were  tightly  buttressed  against  en- 
croaching embonpoint.  She  saw  dapper  men,  dis- 
sipated looking  men,  portly  men,  and  men  with 
heavy-lidded  eyes  and  sensually  lined  faces.  But 
she  never  saw  the  one  man  that  she  secretly  sought. 

Nora  cared  nothing  for  horses,  and  the  accumu- 
lated odour  of  scores  of  them  was  particularly 
offensive  to  her.  It  reminded  her  of  the  old  farm- 
days,  and  the  barnyard. 

Edith's  box  was  not  much  more  of  a  rendezvous 
than  Nora's  would  have  been.  Under  the  near-by 
eyes  of  real  Greatness,  which  she  hoped  soon  to 
achieve,  Edith  did  not  cordially  encourage  ad- 
vances from  a  set  that  had  once  formed  the  height 
of  her  possible  attainment.  Reggie  Barklie  was 
always  in  attendance,  of  course.  But  it  was 
apparent  that  Edith's  affair  with  him  was  on 
the  wane. 

Poor  little  Edith !  She  might  just  as  well  have 
followed  the  dictates  of  a  naturally  warm  heart 
and  have  clung  to  her  old  friends.  She  never 
possessed  the  fortitude  to  climb  the  ladder. 
Self-indulgence  was  the  base  of  her  being,  and 
self-denial  was  a  stranger  to  her.  Never  could 
she  long  resist  immediate  fascinations,  in  the  hope 
of  elusive  later  possibilities. 

One  night,  as  they  sat  looking  at  the  crowd  and 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  147 

hearing  the  names  of  the  mighty  affixed  to  their 
owners,  Nora  caught  sight  of  the  most  beautiful 
woman  she  had  ever  seen. 

"Oh  Edith,"  she  whispered,  clutching  her  friend, 
"who  is  that  perfect  creature?" 

"Where  ? ' '  questioned  Edith. 

"Just  going  into  that  box  opposite.  The  wo- 
man in  yellow,  with  the  Paradise  plume  and  the 
white  furs.  I  never  saw  anything  so  lovely." 

"Oh,"  replied  Edith,  and  there  was  awe  in  her 
voice,  "that  is  Mrs.  Carr — Mrs.  Frank  Carr. 
Isn't  she  wonderful?" 

"She  is  perfectly  exquisite." 

"She's  a  howling  swell,"  continued  Edith. 
"Her  pictures  are  always  in  the  papers,  and  all 
her  clothes,  and  the  affairs  she  gives.  She  is  one 
of  the  big  leaders." 

' '  Yes, ' '  said  Nora.  ' '  I  know. ' '  She  had  often  seen 
the  name  in  her  society  journal.  Edith  continued : 

"Her  older  sister  married  in  England;  she  is 
the  Duchess  of  Raneleigh."  Here  Edith's  recital 
was  suddenly  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  two 
men  whom  she  had  not  seen  for  some  time.  She 
promptly  forgot  Mrs.  Carr,  together  with  all 
other  women. 

Not  so  Nora.  All  evening  she  sat  entranced, 
watching  the  fascinating  vision.  Not  a  movement, 
not  a  gesture,  was  lost  on  her.  She  had  found 
her  ideal. 

Nora's  first  social  function  was  to  be  a  small 


148  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

dinner  at  Edith's.  She  was  to  meet,  amongst 
others,  the  Paynes,  who  were  to  be  her  "Open 
Sesame"  to  the  Country  Club. 

Gorgeously  dressed,  she  entered  the  new  limou- 
sine, her  husband  in  her  wake. 

"I  bought  a  couple  of  horses,  today,  in  town," 
he  announced. 

"You  did?"  she  asked,  without  interest. 

"Yes.  Ribbon-winners  from  the  Show.  They 
came  from  that  Virginia  stable,  and  they  just 
about  suited  me.  I  think  I'll  go  in  a  bit  for 
horses.  I  must  ask  Little  to  help  me  find  a  small 
farm  somewhere  near.  A  stock-farm  for  fancy 
stock  has  always  been  my  pet  dream." 

"Each  to  his  taste,"  she  thought  indifferently. 
Then: 

"The  children  will  have  to  have  ponies  and 
learn  to  ride  while  they  are  still  small,  won't  they?" 
she  asked.  "Do  you  remember  all  those  cunning 
tots  at  the  Horse  Show?" 

"Yes.  I  certainly  want  my  children  to  under- 
stand horses.  I  don't  want  to  run  any  risks,  of 
course;  but  I  wasn't  as  much  as  a  year  older  than 
Patty  when  they  first  lifted  me  onto  a  horse." 

In  a  sudden  flash,  Nora  saw  the  social  possi- 
bilities of  the  horse.  She  saw  a  crowded  building 
and  a  tan-bark  ring  (she  had  yet  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  open-air  shows) ;  she  saw  a  printed 
programme:  "Boy  Blue"  (or  some  other  fancy 
name),  "driven by  Miss  Patricia  Prentiss,"  and  her 
little  daughter  proudly  receiving  a  ribbon  rosette. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  149 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  want  the  children  to  under- 
stand horses." 

They  were  the  last  arrivals  at  Edith's  and  their 
entrance  was  noted  with  great,  though  veiled, 
interest.  Robert  Prentiss's  name  had  figured 
largely  in  the  papers,  of  late. 

Twelve  persons  were  awaiting  them  in  the  big 
room.  They  made  a  showy,  fashionable-looking 
crowd,  but  Nora  was  surprised  at  her  own  detach- 
ment. For  one  thing,  their  evident  desire  to  meet 
her  gave  her  the  feeling  of  a  benefactor,  instead 
of  a  beneficiary.  For  another,  her  eyes  were 
opening  upon  wider  vistas,  of  whose  existence  she 
had  not  previously  dreamed. 

"I'm  coming  to  call  on  you,  immediately,  Mrs. 
Prentiss,"  gushed  young  Mrs.  Payne  on  introduc- 
tion; "and  I  hope  you  and  Mr.  Prentiss  will  give 
us  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  at  a  little  dinner  we 
are  giving  at  the  Country  Club,  on  the  twenty- 
second.  You  won't  forget  to  saVe  me  the  date? 
I  hope  you  are  not  engaged. 

"Indeed,  I  hope  not,"  smiled  Nora.  "It 
would  give  us  the  greatest  pleasure  to  come.  But, 
of  course,  I  can  not  tell  whether  I  am  free  until 
I  look  at  my  engagement-list." 

(Her  engagement-list  existed,  as  yet,  in  her 
imagination  alone.  She  had  caught  the  expression 
from  Edith,  and  she  liked  it.) 

The  dinner  was  elaborate  and  beautifully 
served;  the  guests  were  animated,  charming,  and 
full  of  social  knowledge.  How  Nora  ever  divined 


150  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

that  they  were  not  flawless  first-water  gems,  she 
could  not  herself  have  told.  But  she  did  know 
it,  nevertheless. 

These  people  formed  an  intimate  clique  in  a  cer- 
tain wealthy,  leisured  class;  they  were  full  of 
social  affairs;  they  haunted  the  Country  Club 
and  entertained  elaborately;  they  motored,  and 
golfed,  and  dressed,  and  danced,  and  Bridged. 
They  drank,  and  gambled,  and  flirted,  and  travelled. 
Their  homes  were  beautiful  and  expensively  run. 
Wherein  lay  the  difference?  Nora  could  not  tell, 
nor,  in  sooth,  could  she  say  whether  there  was  a 
difference — never  having  met  any  one  higher  up 
the  ladder  (always  barring  Roger  Kip).  She 
merely  knew  intuitively  that  any  one  that  she  was 
likely  to  meet  at  Edith's,  as  yet,  must  not  be  too 
effusively  embraced.  She  must  hold  herself  just 
a  bit  aloof. 

Mrs.  Payne  made  the  promised  call.  Nora 
was  in  New  York,  but  a  monogrammed  note 
reached  her,  the  following  day,  repeating  the 
dinner  invitation.  As  Nora's  "engagement  list" 
permitted,  the  invitation  was  accepted.  The 
dinner  was  largely  a  repetition  of  Edith's  on  a 
bigger  scale,  except  that  it  was  less  formal  (being  at 
the  Club),  and  distinctly  more  noisy  in  consequence. 
It  was  followed  by  dancing. 

It  was  the  first,  or  rather  the  second,  of  a  long 
chain  of  festivities.  Nora  and  her  husband  were 
included  in  everything;  were,  in  fact,  frequently 
the  guests  of  honour.  Everyone  in  their  present 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  151 

circle  of  friends  seemed  to  live  for  pleasure  alone. 
No  one,  except  the  men,  had  any  responsibilities, 
and  they  kept  theirs  to  themselves.  It  was  one 
long-continued  pleasure-chase.  There  seemed  to 
be  no  particular  standards.  If  "everyone"  did 
a  thing,  everyone  else  hastened  to  do  it.  If  "no 
one"  did  a  thing,  it  was  damned  without  fur- 
ther hearing.  Who  were  this  "everyone"  and  this 
"no  one,"  Nora  wondered?  Somebody  must  start 
things. 

The  Littles  did  not  go  South  that  winter; 
Edith  was  having  too  good  a  time  where  she  was. 
She  was  always  surrounded  by  men,  married  and 
single,  young  and  old.  College  youths  and  fathers 
of  grown  families  found  her  equally  attractive. 
She  was  radiant,  sparkling,  dazzling.  She  grew 
prettier  every  day. 

This  was  perfectly  natural.  The  woman  who 
lives  exclusively  for  her  body  and  by  her  senses, 
is  apt  to  look  surprisingly  lovely  for  a  short  time. 
The  Oriental  races  are  proof  of  this.  Any  woman 
who  deliberately  puts  her  brain  ahead  of  her  body 
must  be  prepared  for  a  probable  curtailment  of 
physical  allure.  Her  reward  lies  in  permanence, 
and  in  power. 

The  only  man  who  did  not  seem  to  approve  of 
Edith's  present  behaviour  was  her  own  husband. 
He  was  growing  surly  and  uncertain  of  temper. 
One  morning,  he  sought  her  in  her  boudoir. 

"Edith,"  he  snarled,  "  I  wish  you'd  stop  making 
such  a  damned  fool  of  yourself." 


152  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  asked  freezingly. 

"Just  what  I  say.  It's  all  very  well  to  go  the 
pace  up  to  a  certain  limit.  But  you've  got  to 
draw  the  line  somewhere.  I  never  saw  a  woman 
drink  as  much  as  you  do." 

"Think  a  moment,"  she  retorted  with  a  sneer. 
"Never?" 

"Well,  certainly  never  in  your  class." 

"My  dear  Harry,  I  don't  believe  in  leaving  all 
the  fun  in  life  to  women  of  another  class.  That's 
all.  You  men  go  off  and  enjoy  it  with  them,  and 
expect  us  to  sit  with  downcast  eyes  and  folded 
hands,  awaiting  your  return.  I  object  to  the 
role:1 

"And  I  object  to  your  present  behaviour." 

"Cast  an  eye  on  your  own  past,  and  see  how 
much  room  you  have  to  preach." 

"That  was  before  my  marriage " 

"That  is  exactly  the  point.  A  man  can  have 
all  the  fun  he  wants  before  his  marriage.  A  wo- 
man can  never  have  any  at  all,  till  after  hers. 
Otherwise,  most  of  you  men  would  still  be 
bachelors." 

"I  tell  you,"  he  thundered,  "you  don't  act  like 
a  decent  woman,  and  I'm  damned  if  I'll  stand 
for  it.  Who  puts  up  the  price  for  this  thing? 
Who  keeps  your  whole  snivelling  family  of  paupers? 
I  do,  Madam.  And  what  do  I  get  for  it?  Noth- 
ing, by  G — d,  but  the  cold  shoulder.  I'm  tired  of 
the  rotten  show." 

"Harry,  don't  be  coarse,"  she  answered  quietly. 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  153 

"And  do  stop  screaming.  The  servants  will  hear 
you.  At  times  like  this  I  am  exceedingly  thankful 
to  have  my  family  in  the  house.  Otherwise,  I 
should  be  afraid  of  you." 

"Well,  leave  your  family  out  of  the  question, 
then.  Let  them  stay  in  the  house.  But,  you 
hear  what  I  say,  I  won't  have  all  the  men  in  town 
running  to  it  like  a  pack  of  curs  after " 

"Harry!    Stop!" 

He  pulled  himself  up. 

"Edith,"  he  said,  "you  know  what  I  mean. 
It's  small  wonder  that  I  lose  my  head.  I  never 
come  into  this  house  that  you're  not  spooning 
with  some  damned  cad — if  you're  in  it,  at  all. 
And  if  you're  not,  you're  keeping  dates  with  some 
man,  somewhere  else.  Look  at  that  afternoon  I 
walked  into  this  room  and  found  you  with  that 
Payson.  You'd  been  in  his  arms,  I'd  swear. 
And  you  might  as  well  have  been  naked." 

"Harry  Little,  hold  your  vile  tongue,"  she  cried 
furiously.  "I  was  wearing  what  every  woman 
wears  in  her  boudoir — a  tea-gown." 

"Well,  yours  are  a  disgrace " 

"They  come  from  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
makers  in  Paris." 

"I'll  bet  they  do,  judging  by  the  bills — and  the 
effect " 

"What  do  you  care  about  the  bills?"  she  asked 
flippantly.  "You  don't  pay  them;  your  father 
does.  And  he  has  the  money  to  do  it,  I  fancy. 
As  for  the  effect  of  my  clothes,  that's  my  affair." 


154  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"That's  where  you're  wrong,"  he  thundered 
with  renewed  excitement.  "That's  just  where 
you're  damned  wrong!  It's  my  affair,  and  that's 
what  I  intend  to  prove  to  you.  And  there's 
another  thing.  I  won't  have  you  sitting  up  in 
restaurants  all  night,  drinking — turned  out  of  one 
place  and  running  to  another — and  a  lower  one — 
till  daylight.  I  won't— 

"You  were  with  me." 

"With  you?  Of  course  I  was  with  you.  To 
protect  you.  But  didn't  I  beg  you  time  and  again 
to  come  home?  Didn't  I  make  a  laughing-stock 
of  myself?" 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  have  sense  enough  to 
realize  that,  anyhow.  Let  it  be  a  lesson  to  you 
in  the  future." 

"A  lesson?"  he  bellowed.  "A  lesson?  You 
are  the  one  that's  going  to  get  a  lesson,  young 
woman!  A  lesson  that  you  won't  care  for 

"Harry,  leave  this  room,  or  I  will.  Go  and  get 
drunk.  It's  the  only  way  you're  ever  decent  any 
more." 

He  continued  to  storm  and  she  to  sit  in  the 
most  irritating  unresponsiveness,  just  as  if  she 
were  alone,  swinging  her  pretty  foot,  humming  a 
French  song,  picking  up  her  hand-glass  and  lip- 
stick and  making  up  her  lips  with  the  most  punc- 
tilious care.  At  last,  he  turned  and  left  the  room. 

"Get  drunk  on  whiskey,"  she  called  after  him, 
darting  to  the  door  and  locking  it  against  his 
return.  "Whiskey  makes  you  rather  amusing. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  155 

When  you're  drunk  on  champagne,  you're  even 
more  vulgar  than  usual." 

With  an  oath  he  stamped  down  the  stairs. 

For  a  wonder,  Edith  was  lunching  at  home  that 
day.  It  was  foggy,  she  had  been  troubled  with  a 
bronchial  cold,  and  she  wanted  to  be  especially 
fit  for  Nora's  first  big  dinner-party  that  night. 

At  her  place,  at  the  luncheon-table,  lay  a  twisted 
note,  addressed  in  Harry's  scrawling  hand. 

Taken  your  advice.  Am  going  to  Hell,  and  not 
alone  either.  Don't  expect  me  back  till  you  see 
me. 

H.  L. 

"As  if  I  cared! "  she  said  to  herself,  with  a  shrug. 
"I  wish  he'd  stay  there." 

Edith  often  said  that  all  her  family  put  a 
premium  on  her  living  outside  her  home.  If  she 
happened  to  spend  a  day  within  its  walls,  every- 
thing went  wrong. 

Her  mother  followed  her  from  the  table  and 
asked  permission  to  enter  her  boudoir. 

"Yes,  come  in  if  you  want  to,"  snapped  Edith 
crossly,  "but  don't  stay  long.  I  want  to  get  a 
little  rest,  and  it  makes  me  cough  to  talk." 

"Your  father  wanted  me  to  ask  you  if  you  could 
spare  him  a  hundred  dollars,  or  so,"  began  Mrs. 
Townsend,  with  some  hesitation.  "He  had  the 
bad  luck  to  lose  his  purse  in  town— 

"Oh,  take  the  money  if  you  want  it,"  shrilled 


156  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Edith.  "I  think  I  have  it — I'm  not  sure.  Leave 
me  enough  to  gamble  on,  this  evening,  that's  all. 
And,  for  Heaven's  sake,  spare  me  the  lies.  If 
Papa  has  lost  money  gambling,  or  spent  it  on 
women,  of  course  he  has  to  be  refunded.  But  I 
wish  he'd  stop  spraining  his  brain  inventing  tales 
that  fool  no  one.  They  bore  me  to  death.  Hand 
me  that  gold  mesh  bag  over  there,  and  I'll  see 
what  I  have." 

Her  mother  received  the  roll  of  bills  with  thanks, 
but  still  did  not  leave  the  room.  She  seemed  to 
find  it  difficult,  however,  to  open  a  further  conver- 
sation. 

"Out  with  it,"  invited  Edith,  flinging  herself 
back  on  a  divan,  and  lighting  a  cigarette.  "What 
else  is  the  matter  in  this  blessed  household?" 

"Edie,"  ventured  her  mother,  "I'm  the  last 
one  to  want  to  spoil  any  pleasure  of  yours,  as  you 
know.  Do  what  you  like,  my  darling,  but,  I 
implore  you,  be  a  little  more  careful  of  appear- 
ances. You  will  never  get  anywhere  if  you  are  so 
shockingly  careless." 

It  was  more  than  Edith's  already  strained 
nerves  could  bear. 

"I  like  your  cheek,"  she  stormed.  "Robbing 
me  with  one  hand  and  knocking  me  with  the  other. 
I  sacrificed  myself  and  my  happiness  for  the  sup- 
port of  this  family,  and  what  do  I  ever  get  in 
return?  Nothing  but  criticism  and  abuse.  I 
won't  stand  for  it!  Understand  once  for  all, 
Mama,  that  if  you  all  want  to  stay  here  and  be 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  157 

supported  in  luxury,  you'll  do  it  by  keeping  civil 
tongues  in  your  heads.  At  the  next  breath  of 
criticism,  out  you  all  go.  I'm  tired  of  it.  Now 
leave  me.  I  want  to  rest." 

Mrs.  Townsend  obediently  left  the  room,  holding 
a  filmy  handkerchief  ostentatiously  to  her  eyes, 
and  Edith  callously  picked  up  the  telephone  and 
gave  a  number. 

"Hello?  Is  this  you  Ther£se?  See  if  Mrs. 
Prentiss  can  speak  to  me  a  moment.  This  is  Mrs. 
Little."  .  .  .  Then,  after  a  pause:  "Oh  hello,  Nora 
darling.  I'm  simply  heartbroken.  I  would  be 
the  last  one,  as  you  know,  to  put  a  spoke  in  your 
wheel,  on  the  night  of  your  first  big  dinner.  But 
Harry  has  been  suddenly  called  out  of  town,  on 
important  business  that  couldn't  possibly  be  de- 
ferred .  .  .  Yes,  so  am  I.  More  sorry  than  I 
can  say.  And  so  was  he.  .  .  .  He  specially  bade 
me  tell  you  that  nothing  but  the  most  imperative 
of  summons  would  ever  have  taken  him  away.  .  .  . 
And,  Nora,  .  .  .  couldn't  I  bring  Billy  Payson 
with  me,  in  Harry's  place?  Then  your  arrange- 
ments won't  be  upset.  .  .  .  You  know  him,  don't 
you?  He's  wild  to  come.  He  admires  you  so 
much.  No,  don't  you  bother  one  moment.  I'll 
attend  to  it  for  you." 

A  smile  flitted  over  her  lips,  as  she  gave  the 
next  number,  a  broker's  office  in  New  York. 

"Hello,  put  Mr.  Payson  on  the  wire,  please. 
Never  mind  the  name.  Just  tell  him  that  a  lady 
said  she  must  speak  to  him  at  once.  .  .  .  Hello, 


158  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

Billy?  Is  that  you?  .  .  .  Yes,  Edith,  of  course. 
I  've  good  news  for  you.  Mrs.  Prentiss  wants  you 
to  fill  Harry's  place  at  dinner,  tonight,  at  eight 
o'clock.  You'd  like  what?  ...  Oh,  to  fill  it 
always?  Be  still,  you  bad  boy.  You  can  tell 
me  those  things  when  you  see  me  tonight.  Yes, 
you  call  here  for  me  at  ten  minutes  before  eight. 
That  will  give  us  a  chance  to  say  how-do-you-do 
before  we  get  to  the  crowd.  Don't  forget  .  .  . 
good-bye,  dear." 

Hanging  up  the  receiver,  she  fell  back  on  her 
cushions,  the  picture-  of  happiness.  Troubles 
were  all  forgotten.  She  looked  like  a  happy-go- 
lucky  gamin. 

"It's  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good," 
she  sighed.  "Now  for  a  beauty  sleep." 

Not  even  Harry  Little's  absence  marred  Nora's 
dinner.  Indeed  he  was  missed  by  no  one,  except 
his  host  and  hostess.  And  Mr.  Payson  acquitted 
himself  nobly  of  the  tender  task  of  filling  Harry's 
place,  not  only  during  dinner,  but  also  before 
and  after  it. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

As  the  days  rolled  by,  Nora  and  her  husband 
saw  less  and  less  of  each  other. 

When  Nora  first  opened  her  eyes,  in  the 
mornings,  Bob  was  always  well  on  his  way  to 
town.  She  would  ring  for  Theresa  and  her  glass 
of  orange-juice.  After  her  bath,  would  come  her 
breakfast-tray,  with  the  morning  papers  and  notes 
of  invitation. 

And  when  Bob  returned,  it  was  always  just  in 
time  to  change  and  accompany  her  to  some  party. 
They  rarely  dined  at  home,  except  when  there 
were  guests. 

Bob  spent  nearly  half  of  his  time  in  Ohio,  any- 
how, and  a  large  part  of  the  other  half  travelling 
between  the  two  places  that  called  him  so  clamor- 
ously. He  had  come  to  regard  Sundays  as  the 
most  convenient  days  for  travel,  as  they  interfered 
with  his  business  at  neither  end. 

The  Sundays  that  he  spent  at  home,  he  was 
"dog-tired."  At  first  he  dawdled  through  the 
mornings  with  the  papers.  There  was  no  Baptist 
Church  in  the  place.  And,  so  far  as  he  could  as- 
certain, everyone  who  went  to  church  at  all, 
went  to  the  Episcopal  Church.  The  service 

159 


160  TTHe  Road  to  Mecca 

there  did  not  appeal  to  him,  as  he  never  knew 
what  to  do  next. 

One  Sunday,  the  telephone  rang,  and  it  was 
Harry  Little,  wanting  to  speak  to  Bob.  He  was 
coming  over  in  the  car  with  a  guest,  an  important 
man  who  had  some  things  to  discuss  with  Mr. 
Prentiss,  and  Harry  thought  the  best  place  for 
the  discussion  would  be  the  golf-links,  where  his 
guest  was  eager  to  betake  himself.  Then  they 
would  lunch  at  the  Club. 

"But  I  don't  play  golf  on  Sunday,"  objected 
Robert  Prentiss. 

"  Oh,  nonsense, "  came  Harry's  voice  at  the  other 
end  of  the  line.  "That's  talk  for  farmers,  not  for 
busy  New  Yorkers.  Half  of  them  wouldn't  get 
any  exercise  at  all,  if  it  wasn't  for  Sunday  golf. 
You'd  take  a  walk  on  Sunday,  wouldn't  you?  .  .  . 
What?  .  .  .  Very  well.  And  you'd  carry  a  stick  in 
your  hand  if  you  wanted  to,  and  you'd  hit  a  stone 
that  happened  to  lie  in  your  way?  There's  no 
difference,  except  in  the  name.  Come  on  and  be 
a  sport.  It's  the  only  way  Grierson  can  see  you. 
He  wouldn't  give  up  his  golf  for  a  million  down. 
And  he's  a  church  member,  at  that." 

"Well,"  yielded  Bob,  "I  suppose  it's  no  worse 
than  hanging  around  the  house,  or  riding  on  the 
train.  .  .  .  And  I  do  need  the  exercise  .  .  . 
Come  down  in  twenty  minutes  and  I'll  be  ready 
to  join  you." 

"Good  for  you,"  approved  Harry.  "Grierson 
will  be  tickled  to  pieces.  If  you  can  manage 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  161 

to  beat  him,  he'll  respect  you  all  the  more  for 
it." 

In  spite  of  his  various  concessions  to  worldiness, 
there  was  an  innate  cleanliness  and  innocence  of 
thought  about  Robert  Prentiss  that  never  ceased 
to  surprise  his  wife. 

One  day,  as  they  motored  together  to  the  Club, 
she  brought  up  a  subject  of  which  "everyone" 
was  then  talking,  a  scandal  about  a  well-known 
business  man  and  his  typewriter. 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  announced  Bob.  "That 
is,  I  suppose  it  must  have  happened,  since  they've 
gone  off  together.  But  I  don't  believe  the  girl 
was  fooled  or  coaxed.  I'm  a  man,  Nora,  and  I 
know  what  I'm  talking  about.  A  girl  doesn't 
have  advances  made  to  her  unless  she  invites  them. 
If  she's  that  kind  of  a  girl,  and  the  man  is  a  weak 
fool,  I  suppose  it  does  sometimes  happen  that  she 
gets  a  hold  over  him.  But  as  for  a  man  starting 
in  to  chase  up  an  affair  with  his  typewriter,  I  don't 
believe  it  for  a  minute.  A  man  never  thinks  of 
the  girl  in  his  office  as  a  woman;  he  just  thinks 
of  her  as  he  would  of  his  desk,  or  his  chair — 
just  as  a  machine  that  he  needs  in  his  work. 
And  if  she's  a  good  typist,  he'd  be  a  fool  to 
make  love  to  her.  There  are  plenty  of  women 
in  this  world,  but  mighty  few  that  are  of  any 
real  practical  use.  Don't  you  believe  all  the 
things  you  hear. " 

Looking  into  his  face,  she  saw  that  he  was 
honestly  voicing  his  convictions.  What  an  inno- 


i62  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

cent  he  was !  In  matters  of  worldliness,  she  might 
well  have  been  his  great-grandmother. 

"I  wish  he'd  get  a  little  more  sense  about  such 
things,"  she  thought  irritably.  "It's  absurd  for 
a  man  of  his  age  to  know  so  little  of  the  world. 
He'll  make  himself  ridiculous,  some  day;  and  me 
too,  as  likely  as  not." 

She  constantly  did  her  best  to  initiate  him,  but 
he  certainly  offered  discouraging  soil  for  the  seeds 
of  worldliness. 

"The  big  goose, "  she  said  to  herself  contemptu- 
ously. "I  wish  he'd  have  a  little  more  spunk! 
He  acts  like  a  country  gawk!" 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ONE  day  Edith  and  Nora  were  driving  together, 
and  they  passed  several  beautiful  places,  all  closed. 

"How  lovely  they  are,"  said  Nora.  "Doesn't 
it  seem  a  shame  that  they  should  be  empty  so 
much  of  the  time?  I  wonder  whose  they  are." 

"This  one,  right  here,  is  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's," 
Edith  answered. 

"Not  the  great  Mrs.  Van  Twiner?" 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Marcus  Van  Twiner,  the  Grand 
Mogul  of  Society." 

"I  didn't  know  she  lived  in  Maynardstown ! " 

"She  doesn't,  except  for  a  very  few  weeks  in  the 
spring  and  the  autumn.  But  she's  generally  here 
for  a  little  while,  twice  a  year.  My  mother  used 
to  go  to  school  with  her.  But  they  merely  bow, 
now.  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  is  very  high  and  mighty. " 

"I'd  love  to  see  her,"  confessed  Nora.  "Is  she 
handsome?" 

"Yes,  she  is.  I  never  saw  any  one  who  looked 
more  completely  the  grande  dame.  You'll  have 
a  chance  to  see  her,  before  long.  She's  coming 
out  to  be  a  patroness  at  the  Easter  Ball  at  the 
Country  Club.  I  just  heard  it  the  other  day.  I 
meant  to  tell  you. " 

163 


164  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Shew?" 

"Yes,"  nodded  Edith. • 

"Doesn't  everyone  at  the  ball  meet  the  patron- 
esses? They  used  to  at  Maplehurst. " 

"Oh  yes;  but  I  shouldn't  exactly  call  it  meeting! 
The  patronesses  greet  everyone  who  comes  in,  and 
they  always  shake  hands.  But  that  is  the  extent 
of  it.  You  couldn't  presume  on  that  to  bow  to 
them  when  next  you  met.  If  you  did,  you'd  be 
cut  dead  for  your  pains." 

This  was  sad  news  to  Nora. 

"But  they  must  know  someone,"  she  objected 
presently.  "  Really  know. " 

"Oh,  there's  a  little  clique  that  always  hangs 
together — people  who  have  been  friends  for  years. 
They  tell  me  that  they  look  right  through  and 
over  everyone  else,  except  for  the  most  formal 
of  greetings." 

Here  was  a  situation  worthy  of  Nora's  busy  brain. 

She  and  Bob  would,  of  course,  be  invited  to  the 
Easter  Ball.  She  wished  they  could  appear,  un- 
hampered by  any  of  the  crowd  that  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner  and  her  set  "looked  through  and  over." 

Yet  they  could  not  go  alone.  That  would  be  too 
dreary,  and  would  look  as  though  they  knew  no  one. 

Should  she  give  a  big  dinner  before  the  ball? 
No;  she  decided  against  that,  almost  immediately. 
To  go  in  the  wake  of  an  undesirable  crowd  might 
be  made  to  look,  later,  as  though  she  had  been 
caught  in  it  against  her  will.  To  appear,  at  the 
head  of  such  a  crowd,  would  be  to  commit  herself 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  165 

definitely,  by  choice.  And  she  knew  no  Van 
Twiner  desirables,  as  yet. 

If  she  did  not  give  a  dinner  ahead  of  the  ball, 
Edith  was  almost  sure  to.  Nora  would,  of  course, 
be  invited.  That  would  mean  plenty  of  men, 
plenty  of  partners,  plenty  of  prearranged  at- 
tention. But  would  it  stamp  her  as  undesirable 
in  the  eyes  of  the  great  patronesses? 

Well,  she  certainly  didn't  want  to  go  alone. 
And  if  she  went  in  company  it  must  be  with  the 
only  crowd  she  knew.  She  would  trust  to  her 
wits  when  she  got  there. 

Edith  gave  the  anticipated  dinner  and  the 
Prentisses  were  among  her  guests.  It  was  a  huge 
affair  of  twenty-four — ten  women  and  fourteen 
men.  Edith's  parties  were  apt  to  run  in  that 
proportion  and  to  take  as  informal  lines  as  possible. 

"You  see,"  she  explained  to  Nora,  "Harry 
doesn't  count,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  A  woman 
doesn't  want  to  dance  with  her  husband  except  as 
a  last  resource,  and  I'm  a  long  way  from  that 
yet,  thank  Heaven.  And  your  husband  doesn't 
dance  at  all.  So  that  makes  only  twelve  men  to 
ten  women,  which  isn't  a  bit  too  many.  I'm  so 
thankful  Mama  and  Aunt  Evelyn  are  off  on  that 
visit.  In  fact,  I  arranged  it  purposely.  They'd 
be  sure  to  insist  on  going,  and  they'd  be  terribly 
in  the  way.  Women  of  that  age  have  no  business 
at  balls,  unless  they  are  patronesses,  or  unless  they 
have  unmarried  daughters  to  chaperone. " 

It  was  long  since  Nora  had  been  as  excited  as 


i66  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

she  was  that  April  night,  when  she  entered  the  ball- 
room and  approached  the  line  of  waiting  patron- 
esses. 

She  was  not  a  little  worried  by  the  costume  of 
her  hostess.  Edith  had  outdone  herself.  Even 
easy-going  Harry  had  threatened  to  lock  her  in  her 
room  unless  she  put  on  more  clothes.  One 
trembled  in  fear  lest  the  thread-like  chains  over 
her  white  shoulders  should  give  way.  If  they  did, 
the  consequences  would  be  awful. 

Edith's  dancing,  too,  was  becoming  more  and 
more  daring  and  pronounced.  However,  the  men 
seemed  to  like  it.  She  was  always  able  to  cut  her 
dances  into  three,  and  four,  if  she  wanted  to. 

Nora  passed  down  the  line  of  patronesses,  simply 
one  atom  in  a  crowd.  Each  one  bowed,  murmured 
her  name  with  a  polite  smile,  and  handed  her  on. 
There  was  no  possible  way  of  pausing,  or  of  sound- 
ing a  personal  note. 

There  was  not  a  moment  during  that  entire  even- 
ing when  Nora  Prentiss  was  not  acutely  conscious 
of  the  exact  whereabouts  of  Mrs.  Marcus  Van 
Twiner.  Nora  managed  to  bring  her  dances  to  a 
close  in  the  direct  neighbourhood  of  the  great  lady. 
She  watched  for  a  glance  that  might  excuse  an 
answering  smile.  She  prayed  for  an  opening — a 
dropped  handkerchief — a  forgotten  belonging  of 
some  kind.  But  her  prayers  went  unanswered. 

"When  is  the  Van  Twiner  place  reopened  for 
the  season?"  she  asked  one  of  her  partners. 

"Oh,  in  two  or  three  weeks  now.     Stunning  old 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  167 

place,  isn't  it?  The  family  spends  a  couple  of 
months  there,  before  leaving  for  Newport.  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner  is  very  great  on  charities,  you  know. 
She  supports  a  creche"  (Nora  had  no  idea  what  a 
"creche"  was),  "and  a  library  and  a  mothers' 
club  for  the  poor  women  down  in  the  village.  And 
she  just  about  runs  the  Church.  She  is  very  fond 
of  playing  the  lady  bountiful." 

"She  goes  to  the  Episcopal  Church,  I  suppose?" 
was  Nora's  next  venture. 

"Yes, "  answered  her  partner.  "  Do  you  care  to 
finish  this  dance,  Mrs.  Prentiss?" 

During  supper  it  became  apparent  that  some  of 
the  great  ladies  were  intending  soon  to  take  their 
departure.  Telephone  messages  concerning  motors 
were  being  dispatched.  There  was  an  air  of 
breaking  up,  as  far  as  the  Mighty  were  concerned. 

Suddenly,  from  the  wide  piazzas  outside,  there 
came  shrieks  of  laughter,  accompanied  by  other 
sounds.  Through  the  long  windows  could  be  seen 
Edith  Little,  her  skirts  held  up  to  her  knees,  her 
bodice  slipping  from  her  shoulders,  an  empty 
champagne  bottle  tied  to  each  ankle,  being  chased 
by  three  boys.  The  fact  that  they  had  all  been 
over-drinking  was  only  too  evident. 

It  was  a  terrible  moment.  Harry  Little  broke 
from  the  crowd  in  the  ballroom,  his  face  as  white 
as  a  plaster  mask,  and  strode  through  the  window. 
Laying  a  heavy  hand  on  his  wife's  shoulder,  and 
without  speaking  a  word,  he  turned  her  into  the 
hall  and  towards  the  worrier's  dressing-room.  For 


i68  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

once  in  her  life,  she  looked  frightened.  She  fol- 
lowed his  guiding  hand  without  a  protest. 

There  was  an  inevitable  hush  in  the  ballroom 
before  someone  had  the  wit  to  signal  to  the  musi- 
cians to  start  a  noisy  dance-tune. 

Nora  was  not  far  from  the  patroness-group. 

"How  perfectly  disgusting,"  she  heard  one  of 
the  women  say  to  Mrs.  Van  Twiner.  "Who  was 
she?" 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  shook  a  beautifully  coiffed 
grey  head.  "Some  vulgar  little  thing,"  she  re- 
plied. "Her  face  looked  rather  familiar,  but  I 
can't  place  it.  This  is  the  consequence  of  opening 
the  doors  of  this  club  to  the  rabble.  Of  course, 
there  are  not  enough  of  us  to  run  it.  But  the 
tone  of  it  is  becoming  horribly  plebeian.  If  it  were 
not  for  the  men's  golf,  I  should  certainly  resign. 
I  don't  know  one  face  in  twenty  when  I  come  out 
here.  ...  I  wonder  if  my  car  has  come  yet!" 

"I'll  see,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,"  offered  one  of  the 
men,  hurrying  away. 

Nora  felt  sick.  "Let's  go  home,  Bob,"  she 
whispered  as  soon  as  she  could  find  him. 

"I'm  ready,"  he  answered.  "Wasn't  that 
awful?  Poor  Harry  Little!  I  pity  him  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart!  Nora,  if  you  have  any 
influence,  whatever,  with  that  little  fool,  for  God's 
sake,  try  to  save  her  from  herself. " 

She  could  not  answer  him  for  welling  tears.  Her 
throat  ached  with  the  effort  of  holding  them  back. 
Were  they  tears  of  sorrow,  or  of  mortification? 


CHAPTER  XX 

"BOB,"  observed  Nora,  somewhat  later  in  the 
week,  "I  think  Patricia  is  old  enough  to  have  some 
religious  training.  I'm  going  to  take  a  pew  in  the 
church. " 

"What  church?"  he  asked. 

"The  Episcopal  church  seems  to  be  the  only 
one  here  that  any  one  goes  to,"  said  Nora.  "Of 
course,  the  service  is  strange  to  me;  but  I  think  I 
should  soon  get  used  to  it.  The  belief  is  exactly 
the  same  as  in  our  own  church,  at  home.  You 
know  it  was  called  the  Methodist  Episcopal. " 

"Yes, "  nodded  her  husband.  "Well,  Nora,  I'm 
sure  I'd  be  only  too  glad  to  have  the  children 
brought  up  to  go  to  church. " 

"I  should  never  dream  of  anything  else,"  his 
wife  assured  him. 

The  next  Sunday,  Patricia,  looking  like  a  French 
doll,  accompanied  her  mother  to  the  service  at 
St.  Michael's.  She  was  big-eyed  with  excitement; 
it  was  so  unusual  to  go  anywhere  with  "  Muwer. " 
They  were  shown  into  a  pew  on  the  side-aisle 
whence  Nora  had  the  joy  of  watching  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner  sail  up  the  middle  aisle  to  her  pew.  (Nora 
had  learned  from  the  papers  that  the  Van  Twiner 

169 


170  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

household  was  already  established  at  "Beech- 
wold,"  their  Maynardstown  estate.) 

After  service,  Nora  tarried  to  arrange  for  a 
permanent  pew  more  advantageously  situated. 
She  arrived  home  to  find  that  Edith  Little  had 
been  trying  all  morning  to  get  her  on  the  telephone. 

"She  wants  you  to  call  her  up  at  once,"  said 
Nora's  husband,  and  the  two  of  them  exchanged 
significant  glances. 

After  the  Easter  Ball,  word  had  gone  out  that 
Edith  was  ill, — that,  indeed,  she  had  been  feverish 
and  wretched  on  the  night  of  the  dance.  Mrs. 
Townsend  had  made  a  hurried  return  to  Maynards- 
town, and  all  inquiries  had  been  vaguely  answered. 

"You  might  as  well  see  what  she  wants,"  ob- 
served Robert  Prentiss,  answering  Nora's  question- 
ing glance.  "She  is  your  friend,  and  you  can't 
break  with  her  entirely,  even  after  that  perform- 
ance." 

Edith  was  sitting  up  and  wanted  Nora  to  come 
over  and  have  tea  with  her  in  her  boudoir. 

"Why,  I'm  afraid  I  can't,"  objected  Nora,  "I'm 
going  out  with  Bob." 

"You're  going  to  do  nothing  of  the  sort," 
replied  Edith.  "Just  tell  Bob  that  I  need  you. " 

"Well,"  hesitated  Nora,  "I'll  speak  to  him 
about  it  when  he  comes  in"  (he  was  standing  by 
her  side),  "and  let  you  know  what  he  says.  I 
believe  he  wanted  me  to  go  with  him  to  look  at  a 
place  that  he's  thinking  of  buying." 

"It  won't  run  away,"  Edith  assured  her.     "I 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  171 

shall  expect  you  positively,  about  four.  You 
needn't  bother  to  ring  up  again.  I  shall  be  here, 
and  I  want  you  to  come." 

Nora  hung  up  the  receiver  and  looked  at  her 
husband. 

"You  might  as  well  go,"  he  answered  her  eyes. 
"You  can't  put  it  off  forever;  and  the  longer  you 
wait,  the  worse  it  will  be." 

"I  think  she  has  cheek,"  flamed  Nora  irritably. 
"If  she  chooses  to  make  a  fool  of  herself,  she  can't 
expect  me  to  bear  the  brunt  of  it. " 

"I've  known  you  to  stand  up  for  her  when  she 
was  acting  as  badly  as  that,"  replied  her  husband 
shortly,  "if  not  worse." 

Nora  bit  her  lip. 

She  entered  Edith's  boudoir  that  afternoon  in  no 
charitable  frame  of  mind.  Edith,  too,  was  on  the 
defensive.  The  atmosphere  was  electric. 

After  the  ordinary  civilities  had  been  exchanged, 
Edith  suddenly  announced:  "I  believe  the  air 
wrould  do  me  good.  I  think  I'll  ring  for  the  motor 
and  we'll  drive  to  the  Club  and  have  our  tea.  I'm 
sick  to  death  of  this  old  house. " 

In  a  flash  Nora  saw  the  whole  plan.  ' '  She  wants 
to  make  her  first  appearance  there,  sheltered  by 
me,"  she  thought.  "She  hasn't  been  ill,  at  all. 
It's  all  a  sham.  I  am  not  going  to  be  duped  and 
compromised.  I  won't  go." 

"Why  Edith,"  she  cried  aloud,  "you  must  be 
crazy.  Of  course  you  can't  do  such  a  thing. " 

"  I  can  and  I  will.     Ring  foi  Marie,  will  you? " 


172  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"No,  I  won't.  And  I  won't  go  with  you," 
answered  Nora.  The  Country  Club  was  apt  to 
be  crowded  on  Sunday  afternoons  in  the  spring, 
and  they  both  knew  it.  "You  asked  me  to  have 
tea  with  you  here  and  I  broke  an  engagement  with 
Bob,  just  to  do  it.  But  I  tell  you  flatly  that  I'm 
not  going  to  have  it  anywhere  but  here. " 

"I  suppose  you  are  ashamed  to  appear  in 
public  with  me?"  sneered  Edith,  taking  the  bull 
by  the  horns.  There  was  a  nasty  glitter  in  her 
eyes. 

"Don't  be  silly,  Edith,"  Nora  evaded. 

Edith  had  risen  from  her  couch.  "Either  you 
are  ashamed,  or  you  are  going,"  she  announced. 
"Which  is  it?" 

"Neither.  I  am  going  to  have  tea  with  you 
here,  as  I  promised.  I  am  not  your  slave,  Edith, 
to  be  driven  in  any  direction  your  whims  may 
determine." 

The  two  women  faced  each  other. 

"You  may  not  be  my  slave,"  answered  Edith, 
"but  I've  made  you,  and  you  know  it.  Where 
would  you  have  been  today,  Nora  Prentiss,  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  me?  Even  granting  your 
husband's  ability  and  his  money,  and  his  coal- 
mines, how  could  you  have  started  alone?  How 
would  you  even  have  known  what  to  do?  Who 
taught  you  Bridge?  Who  started  you  at  golf  and 
dancing?  Who  showed  you  how  to  dress,  and 
drink,  and  drive,  and  lunch?  You  wouldn't 
even  have  known  what  servants  you  needed,  or 


TKe  Road  to  Mecca  173 

how  to  treat  them,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me.  What 
are  you,  anyhow?" 

She  was  crimson ;  Nora  was  as  white  as  chalk. 

"I  am  a  self-respecting  woman,  at  least,  who 
knows  how  to  behave  herself  in  public,"  she  said, 
and  her  voice  shook.  ' '  No  matter  who  started  me, 
Edith,  Tm  started!  I  never  yet  asked  a  favour  of 
you,  and  you  know  it.  You  took  me  up  because 
you  needed  me.  If  I  have  made  good,  that  is  my 
affair.  I  could  tell  a  few  things,  too,  if  it  comes  to 
that.  Don't  think,  because  I've  held  my  tongue 
all  this  time,  that  I've  been  a  blind  fool.  What 
about  that  first  trip  to  town,  from  Allenbury, 
when  that  man  came  over  from  New  York  to 
meet  you?  /  don't  believe  you  were  in  your  room 
at  all,  that  night,  Edith  Little.  If  I  were  in  your 
shoes,  I  don't  think  I'd  be  quite  so  independent. 
I  know  things  that  you  have  done,  just  this  past 
winter — plenty  of  them — that  wouldn't  sound  very 
well  if  they  were  told." 

They  stood  there  for  a  long  moment.  Then 
Edith  reached  for  the  bell. 

"I'm  going,"  she  announced. 

"And  I'm  not,"  returned  Nora.  She  knew 
perfectly  well  that  Edith  would  not  go  alone. 
Suddenly,  the  telephone  rang. 

Edith  took  up  the  receiver.  Whatever  the 
message  was,  it  excited  her  tremendously.  "Wait 
a  minute, — wait" — she  called  finally — "I  think 
I  can  fix  it — don't  ring  off;  just  hold  the  wire  a 
moment." 


174  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

Turning  to  Nora  and  placing  her  hand  over  the 
transmitter  to  deaden  the  sound,  she  said  breath- 
lessly: "Nora,  I'll  compromise  with  you.  Bob's 
out,  isn't  he?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  this  is  Billy  Payson.  Nora,  I  must  see 
him  alone, — without  interruption, — it  is  absolutely 
necessary.  And  it  will  take  me  an  hour  to  explain 
things  to  him.  Harry's  downstairs,  I  think, 
and  he  is  in  a  blue  funk  about  Billy.  He 
has  forbidden  him  the  house.  He  has  even  given 
orders  to  the  servants  never  to  admit  Billy  again, 
on  pain  of  dismissal.  Will  you  ring  up  and  order 
your  motor,  and  will  you  go  downstairs  and  explain 
to  all  the  family  that  you  are  going  to  take  me  over 
to  your  house  for  a  little  change,  and  a  cup  of  tea? 
Will  you  let  me  tell  Billy  to  meet  me  there?  And 
will  you  leave  us  entirely  alone  in  your  morning- 
room,  and  give  us  something  to  drink?" 

Her  words  poured  out  like  lava  from  a  volcano. 
She  was  panting. 

"Hurry,  Nora,  he's  waiting.     Will  you  do  it?" 

"Yes, "  promised  Nora.     "  I  will. "  " 

Edith  turned  and  delivered  her  breathless  mes- 
sage. Then  she  gave  Nora  the  use  of  the  telephone 
to  order  the  motor.  They  avoided  each  other's 
eyes. 

"Now  run  on  down  and  pacify  the  family  while 
I  dress,"  ordered  Edith.  "I  told  him  to  be  there 
in  half  an  hour,  and  of  course  we  must  get  there 
ahead  of  him.  You  are  sure  Bob  isn't  home?" 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  175 

"He's  out  for  golf, "  Nora  assured  her,  "he  won't 
be  back  till  dark." 

As  she  went  down-stairs,  she  knew  that  she  had 
virtually  betrayed  her  friend.  In  order  to  save  her 
own  name,  in  order  to  avoid  a  public  appearance 
with  Edith  before  the  recent  scandal  had  blown 
over,  she  was  doing  Edith  the  worst  turn  she  could 
possibly  do  her.  She  was  throwing  her  to  the 
dogs.  Even  though  Edith  liked  the  dogs,  even 
though  she  clamoured  to  be  thrown,  the  case  was 
not  altered.  Her  two  great  dangers,  at  the  present 
moment,  were  drink  and  Billy  Payson.  And  Nora 
was  handing  her  over  to  both  of  them,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation. 

Of  course,  she  excused  herself  to  herself,  with 
spurious  arguments.  Which  of  us  would  not? 
"Edith  would  certainly  manage  a  meeting  any- 
how, and  she  was  safer  under  the  shelter  of  her 
friend's  roof," — and  so  on.  But  Nora's  heart  knew 
the  truth. 

She  went  down  to  lie  to  Harry, — poor,  unhappy, 
honest,  friendly  Harry, — so  in  need  in  this  crisis, 
of  the  co-operation  of  his  friends.  He  seemed 
relieved  to  hear  of  the  plan. 

"It'll  do  her  a  lot  of  good,  and  cheer  her  up," 
he  said.  "I'm  glad  you  thought  of  it,  Nora,  and 
glad  she  consented  to  go.  She's  been  moping  and 
crying  for  five  whole  days,  and  she's  all  out  of 
sorts.  And  I  always  know  she's  safe  with  you. 
Since  she's  provided  for,  I  believe  I'll  go  out 
and  have  a  round  of  golf.  Is  Bob  on  the  links?" 


176  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Yes,"  she  told  him.  "He  will  be  delighted  to 
have  you  join  him. " 

Ah,  Nora  Prentiss!  Nora  Prentiss!  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  a  man  called  Judas?  The  man  who, 
for  personal  gain,  betrayed  his  Friend  with  a  kiss? 
Perhaps  you  will  make  his  acquaintance,  now  that 
your  church-going  days  have  begun  again. 

Church,  by  the  way,  may  have  benefited  Pa- 
tricia. But  it  proved  to  be  something  of  a  disap- 
pointment to  Patricia's  mother. 

Nothing  happened.  Only  once  did  she  ever 
receive  a  direct  glance  from  Mrs.  Van  Twiner. 
Noticing  Patricia  one  day,  on  her  exit  from  church, 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner  glanced  around  to  see  with  whom 
she  was  walking.  Her  eyes  met  Nora's  entirely 
without  recognition. 

At  first,  Nora's  heart  sank.  Then  she  comforted 
herself  with  the  thought  that  if  the  great  lady  had 
forgotten  her,  at  least  she  could  never  connect 
her  with  Edith's  scandalous  behaviour.  Then  a 
horrid  little  worrying  fear  crept  in, — perhaps  the 
forgetfulness  was  feigned  and  was  caused  by  the 
scandal. 

Well,  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  done, — for 
the  present,  at  least.  Beechwold  was  soon  de- 
serted again  and  Nora's  church-going  became 
spasmodic,  and  finally  ceased  for  the  time  being. 

To  her  husband  she  explained  that  the  weather 
was  growing  too  warm  to  keep  Patricia  indoors 
all  the  morning.  She  should  go  again  in  the 
autumn. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  177 

This  same  excuse  was  repeated  to  her  new 
rector,  when  he  called. 

"Ah!"  he  replied,  "exactly."  (He  was  used  to 
lax  attendance,  and  to  self-indulgent  parishioners.) 
"Exactly.  The  church  is  closed  through  the 
summer,  anyhow.  I  take  my  vacation  at  the 
sea-shore.  We  shall  meet  again  in  the  autumn. 
You  are  a  devoted  mother,  are  you  not,  Mrs. 
Prentiss?  A  devoted  mother!" 

The  absence  of  interest  in  church-going  was 
made  up  to  Nora  Prentiss  in  other  ways.  She 
and  Bob  were  looking  for  a  place  to  buy;  their 
present  lease  would  run  out  in  October,  and  they 
wanted  to  get  settled  in  a  bigger  house. 

Buying  a  house  and  furnishing  it  is  a  fascinating 
occupation  under  certain  conditions.  When  a 
purse  has  no  bottom,  it  is  a  pleasant  possession  to 
the  hand  that  wields  it.  As  Halevy  has  cleverly 
said:  "It  is  astonishing  how  much  money  a 
woman's  hand  can  hold, — especially  if  it  be  very 
small."  Nora's  hand  was  no  exception  to  the 
rule. 

A  beautiful  place  was  finally  purchased,  and 
another  phase  of  Nora's  education  began.  This 
time,  her  teachers  were  household-decorators,  and 
her  text-books  were  wall-hangings,  chintzes,  furni- 
ture, tapestries,  and  rugs.  "Sheraton, "  "Adam, " 
— words  that  she  had  never  before  heard,  that 
she  wouldn't  have  known  how  to  spell,  or,  in  some 
cases,  to  pronounce, — were  now  constantly  on  the 
tip  of  her  tongue.  She  was  excited.  She  was 


178  The  Road  to  Mecca 

always  excited  and  generally  happy,  when  her 
brain  was  busy.  An  active  brain  is  an  exacting 
taskmaster.  Lying  fallow,  it  is  often  the  devil's 
best  abetter  in  finding  mischief  for  idle  hands 
to  do. 

By  the  end  of  June,  the  house  was  well  under 
way  and  Nora  was  pale  and  tired.  Bob  was  in 
Ohio  more  than  ever.  Maynardstown  society 
was  preparing  for  its  summer  exodus.  Time  was 
promising  to  hang  heavily  on  Nora's  hands,  when 
Edith  came  to  the  fore  with  one  of  her  wonderful 
plans. 

The  old  relationship  had  been  more  or  less  re- 
sumed between  the  two  women.  They  had  drifted 
back  to  each  other,  and  all  mention  of  past  troubles 
was  avoided  by  common  consent.  However,  it 
was  not  quite  the  same.  It  never  is.  You  may 
mend  a  shattered  vase,  but  the  cracks  must  show. 
You  may  heal  a  wound,  but  you  will  be  rarely 
lucky  if  no  scar  remains. 

On  the  last  day  of  June,  Edith  came  racing 
excitedly  into  Nora's  morning-room. 

"Nora,"  she  cried,  "I  have  the  most  heavenly 
plan!  and  I've  coaxed  Harry  to  consent,  if 
you  will  come  into  it.  I  want  you  to  come  to 
Narragansett  Pier  with  me  for  a  month  or  six 
weeks. " 

"Oh,  I  should  love  to,"  answered  Nora.  "Just 
our  two  selves,  do  you  mean?  When  would  you 
want  to  go?" 

"About  the  middle  of  July.     The  polo  begins 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  179 

about  then,  and  that  is  always  the  signal  for  the 
big  crowds.  Yes,  no  one  but  ourselves.  Harry 
will  run  down  off  and  on,  when  he  feels  like  it; 
and  of  course,  Bob  can,  too.  But  you  must  leave 
the  children  here. " 

"Oh  yes.     They  are  better  off  at  home. " 

"Certainly.  Two  weeks  will  give  you  time  to 
get  ready  and  to  order  any  additional  clothes  you 
need.  You  can  buy  lovely  things  in  Newport, 
anyhow.  All  the  big  shops  have  branches  there 
and  it  is  nothing  of  a  run  over.  We  can  see  the 
tennis  at  Newport.  .  .  .  " 

"It  sounds  perfect." 

"Yes!  And  Harry  says  he  can  always  trust  me 
with  you.  And  I  can  trust  myself  for  a  good  time, 
when  once  I  am  there,  and  away  from  him.  Let's 
run  up  to  town  tomorrow  and  see  about  our 
bathing-suits,  and  some  hats  and  things." 

"I  shall  have  to  speak  to  Bob  about  it." 

"He  won't  object.  Let's  motor  in  as  early  as 
possible  tomorrow,  and  make  a  full  day  of  it. 
I'll  take  you  in  my  new  car. " 

There  ensued  two  busy  weeks  of  preparation. 
Edith  was  to  the  fore  again,  because  she  knew  her 
ground.  She  was  especially  informing  on  the 
subject  of  bathing  costumes.  Nora  had  never 
dreamed  that  it  was  such  an  important  one. 

"Black  satin  is  best,"  she  insisted.  "You  will 
see  all  sorts  of  freak  costumes;  but  nothing  is 
really  as  trig  and  as  smart  as  a  well-cut  black  satin. 
And  be  sure  to  be  fitted  without  your  corset. 


i8o  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Thank  Heaven,  we've  both  got  the  figures  for  that, 
and  it's  lots  more  fun." 

"Why  yes,"  agreed  Nora,  "I  should  think  a 
corset  would  feel  simply  horrid  when  it  was  wet. " 

Edith  smiled  demurely.  That  wasn't  quite 
what  she  meant,  but  never  mind! 

"It's  a  pity  you  don't  swim,  Nora.  But,  you'll 
have  the  fun  of  being  taught." 

"You  swim,  I  suppose?" 

"Like  a  duck.     And  I  love  it." 

Billy  Payson  was,  of  course,  going  to  Narragan- 
sett.  Edith's  affair  with  him  was  again  at  fever- 
pitch.  And  there  was  lately  another  man  who 
was  looming  large  in  her  circle  of  admirers,  a  mar- 
ried man  with  a  neglected  wife.  He  was  known  as 
"Jerry"  Babcock.  Then  there  was  also  a  very 
promising  dark  horse, — as  yet  unhonoured  by 
Harry's  suspicions, — in  the  shape  of  a  sophisticated 
progressive  boy  not  yet  out  of  college.  He  was 
familiarly  called  "Toodles"  by  everyone.  Both 
of  these  latter  gentlemen  were  planning  to  turn 
up  at  "the  Pier"  during  Edith's  stay. 

It  would  be  hard  to  find  a  prettier  pair  of  women 
than  the  two  who  left  Maynardstown  for  Narra- 
gansett  in  the  middle  of  July.  Both  were  tall, 
slender,  graceful,  beautifully-dressed.  The  blonde 
was  slightly  the  taller  and  much  the  more  refined 
in  type;  the  brunette  was  the  more  vivacious  and 
sparkling.  Each  was  accompanied  by  a  French 
maid  of  the  most  correct  type,  and  both  were 
radiantly  happy. 


The  Road  to  Mecca  181 

"You'll  love  it,  Nora, — simply  love  it,"  assured 
Edith.  "There  is  no  place  on  the  face  of  the  earth 
than  can  compare  with  it.  I  can  hardly  wait  to 
get  there. " 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AT  first  Nora  did  love  it.  It  all  seemed  like  a 
fairy-tale. 

She  thought  that  she  would  never  tire  of  those 
mornings  on  the  beach,  spent  entirely  in  bathing- 
suits;  of  those  shifting  crowds  in  which  she  im- 
agined every  unit  to  be  a  notability  of  some  circle 
— society,  the  stage,  or  the  demimonde;  of  the 
crowded  Casino,  so  densely  packed  that  tables 
were  reached  with  difficulty ;  of  the  afternoon  polo- 
games,  or  golf,  or  pilgrimages  to  Newport;  of  the 
evening  dinners  and  dances, — again  in  the  Casino, 
with  the  pretty  women  still  prettier  because  of  their 
evening-gowns  and  jewels,  and  the  gay  men  still 
gayer  because  of  twelve  long  hours  of  repeated 
drinks.  Verily,  it  was  le  monde  ou  I' on  s*  amuse. 

Nora's  swimming-lessons  might  well  have  been 
anatomy  lectures,  so  frankly  were  her  points  dis- 
cussed by  her  teachers.  She  made  but  slow  pro- 
gress, however.  Women  of  her  type  are  never 
athletic. 

Harry  burst  upon  them  from  time  to  time.  On 
such  occasions  Mr.  Payson  always  betook  himself 
to  Newport  for  a  stay  and  Edith  played  the 
devoted  wife  very  prettily. 

182 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  183 

But,  gradually,  several  flies  became  noticeable 
in  Nora's  amber. 

In  the  first  place,  she  was  nothing  but  Edith's 
second,  and  she  disliked  the  role.  The  men  who 
formed  their  constant  circle  were  all  picked 
admirers  of  Edith's;  they  had  followed  her  there 
and  she  was  their  main  interest.  Nora  played 
second  fiddle,  to  her  great  disgust.  It  was  an 
instrument  that  she  particularly  loathed. 

Then,  she  was  not  meeting  any  of  the  persons 
she  had  hoped  to  meet.  It  was  the  same  old 
Maynardstown  crowd  in  a  different  setting. 

One  day,  in  Newport,  Edith  pointed  out  a 
beautiful  place. 

"Do  you  remember  that  Mrs.  Carr  that  you 
thought  so  lovely  at  the  Horse  Show  last  autumn?  " 
she  asked. 

"Oh  yes,"  answered  Nora,  "of  course  I  do." 

"This  is  her  place.  Isn't  it  gorgeous?  She 
isn't  here  this  summer,  though.  She  is  abroad, 
and  the  place  is  rented. " 

"Why  don't  we  ever  meet  the  owners  of  these 
houses,  Edith?"  Nora  demanded. 

"What,  over  at  the  Pier?" 

Nora  nodded. 

"Why,  my  dear  child,  how  could  we?  They 
look  upon  it  as  a  sort  of  merry-go-round.  They 
come  over  to  be  amused,  occasionally,  but  always 
in  crowds  of  their  own." 

"Then  why  didn't  we  come  here  instead  of 
there?"  persisted  Nora. 


184  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"You  don't  want  much,  do  you,  Nora?"  said 
Edith.  "What  kind  of  a  time  do  you  suppose  we 
should  have  had  here?  We  could  have  sat  look- 
ing at  the  crowd  till  Doomsday.  You  can  not 
break  into  Newport  society  that  way.  If  you 
could,  all  the  world  would  be  here,  doing  it.  Its 
very  exclusiveness  is  what  makes  it  so  desirable. 
Come  on,  I  want  to  order  the  flowers  for  my 
dinner." 

She  was  giving  a  dinner  at  the  Casino,  the  follow- 
ing evening,  and,  at  the  last  moment  she  struck  a 
snag.  In  the  afternoon,  Billy  Payson  joined  them 
at  the  polo-grounds. 

"Edith, "  he  announced,  " I'm  no  end  sorry,  but 
I  shall  have  to  leave  you  at  ten  o'clock  tonight. " 

"Leave  us?"  she  queried.  "Why,  you  can't, 
Billy." 

"  I  have  to,  just  the  same.    I  must  meet  a  train. " 

Edith  stiffened.  "Who  is  coming  on  it?"  she 
inquired. 

"A  very  old  friend  of  mine.  She  has  tele- 
graphed me  to  meet  her,  and  there  is  nothing 
else  to  be  done. " 

"That  Baltimore  woman?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  you  cannot  go.  You  are  engaged  to  me, 
and  I  refuse  to  release  you. " 

"Edith,  don't  be  a  cat.  I  must  go.  There 
are  always  twice  as  many  men  as  women  at  your 
dinners,  anyhow.  And  I  will  be  with  you  till  ten 
o'clock." 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  185 

"But  that  is  nothing  at  all, "  she  cried  furiously. 
"You  won't  be  there  for  the  dancing.  You  won't 
even  be  there  all  through  dinner " 

"Oh,  yes  I  will." 

"  Oh,  no  you  won't.  Not  if  you  meet  that  train. 
I  have  gone  to  great  pains  and  have  ordered  a  very 
special  dinner,  and  I  won't  have  it  spoiled  by  a  cat 
of  a  woman.  She  did  it  on  purpose." 

"Edith,  you  talk  like  a  fool.  How  could  she 
know  anything  about  your  dinner?  She  merely 
wired  at  random. " 

All  afternoon  they  wrangled  over  it.  Edith 
threatened,  and  begged,  and  wheedled.  They 
parted  with  the  matter  still  unsettled,  and  each 
determined  to  win. 

Edith  arrayed  herself  for  the  dinner  without 
neglecting  the  tiniest  detail  that  might  work  in  her 
favour.  She  placed  Mr.  Payson  by  her  side,  at 
the  table,  and  she  made  the  most  audacious  love 
to  him  all  evening. 

Towards  ten  o'clock  he  began  to  look  at  his 
watch. 

"You  are  not  going?"  Edith  demanded  in  a  low 
tone. 

He  merely  nodded. 

"Billy,  I  swear  to  you,  if  you  meet  that  woman, 
you'll  be  sorry  for  it. " 

He  rose.  "  I'm  sorry  to  leave  you  all, "  he  said, 
nodding  to  the  crowd.  "I  fancy  you  won't  miss 
me  much.  Good-night,  Edith.  Awfully  jolly  lit- 
tle dinner.  Thanks  so  much. "  And  he  was  off. 


186  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

Edith  stared  after  him,  her  eyes  blazing.  Then 
she  threw  up  the  sponge  for  decency. 

Never  had  she  behaved  so  daringly — so  madly — 
so  immodestly.  Their  table  was  so  noisy  that, 
even  in  that  noisy  place,  they  were  the  centre  of 
notice  and  of  criticism.  Nora  was  furious,  but 
she  could  do  nothing. 

After  they  had  danced  for  an  hour  or  so,  Edith 
came  seeking  her. 

"  Come  on,  Nora, "  she  called,  "there's  a  wonder- 
ful moon  and  we  are  all  going  up  the  beach. " 

Anything  was  better  than  present  conditions. 
Nora  joined  the  crowd  and  they  strolled  along  the 
beach  in  groups  of  two  and  three.  Presently 
they  came  to  a  less  frequented  spot,  and  Toodles 
was  struck  with  a  brilliant  idea. 

"I'll  stump  you  to  go  in  wading,  Edith,"  he 
dared.  "  I'll  bet  you're  not  game  enough  to  do  it." 

Edith  stood  stock-still. 

"What  will  you  bet?"  she  asked. 

"Anything  you  like." 

"A  Newport  hat  against  a  kiss?" 

"Yes.  We'll  double  it.  Two  hats  against  two 
kisses. " 

"  I'll  hold  the  stakes, "  offered  Jerry. 

"  No, "  answered  Edith,  "you  can  hold  my  shoes 
and  stockings. " 

She  sat  down  and  began  deliberately  to  take 
them  off,  amidst  all  sorts  of  offers  of  help. 

"Edith,"  cried  Nora  sharply.  "Don't  be  so 
silly." 


THe   Road  to   Mecca  187 

"Hold  your  tongue,  Nora, "  replied  the  wayward 
Edith.  "This  isn't  your  funeral." 

Lifting  her  skirts  high,  she  started  into  the  surf, 
amidst  the  shouts  of  an  applauding  crowd. 

"Good  old  Edie,"  they  shrieked.  "Go  on  in  a 
little  farther.  The  water's  fine."  Edith's  skirts 
were  soon  well  above  her  knees,  and  her  audience 
kept  calling  to  her  to  "pull  them  higher,  they're 
getting  wet. " 

At  last  it  palled,  and  she  came  out.  "Newport 
and  the  hats,  tomorrow,"  she  told  Toodles.  He 
was  too  convulsed  to  do  more  than  nod.  Everyone 
but  Nora  helped  Edith  to  put  on  her  shoes  and 
stockings  and  the  entire  crowd  (except  Nora  and 
the  one  man  who  was  forced  to  escort  her)  went 
back  to  the  Casino.  Nora  went  home  and  to  bed, 
but  not  to  sleep. 

She  had  fully  decided  to  return  to  Maynards- 
town.  Edith  would  be  furious,  for  Harry  would 
not  permit  her  to  stay  on  alone.  But  Edith  had 
forfeited  all  claim  to  consideration.  She  might 
be  fast,  if  she  wanted  to,  but  she  had  no  right  to 
be  so  vulgar. 

Jerry  Babcock  was  giving  them  a  dinner  the 
following  evening.  Nora  decided  to  stay  for  that, 
and  then  to  launch  her  thunderbolt. 

She  sent  her  maid  to  tell  Edith's  maid  that 
she  was  tired  and  would  stay  in  her  room 
the  next  morning.  And  as  Edith  and  Toodles 
lunched  at  the  Casino  and  beat  an  immediate 
retreat  to  Newport,  Nora  and  Edith  did  not 


188  The  Road  to  Mecca 

meet  until  the  men  stopped  to  take  them  to 
dinner. 

After  dinner,  there  was  a  subdued  excitement  in 
the  Casino  crowd.  A  party  of  men,  young  and  old, 
had  entered  and  taken  possession  of  one  of  the 
tables.  There  were  no  women  with  them,  and 
they  did  not  seek  to  meet  any.  They  simply  sat, 
and  drank,  and  watched  the  show.  And  everyone 
in  the  show  watched  them,  covertly  or  openly. 

"You  know  who  they  are,  don't  you?  "  asked  one 
of  Nora's  partners. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"That  oldest  man  is  F.  Gallatin  Leeds,  the 
biggest  financier  in  the  world  today. " 

"Oh  is  it?"  she  cried,  with  immediate  interest. 

"The  tall  slender  man  with  the  yellow  mous- 
tache is  Harding  Geer,  the  celebrated  woman- 
eater.  They  say  no  woman  ever  got  away  from 
him  yet,  were  she  duchess  or  chorus  girl.  He 
is  known  everywhere.  And  that  stout  dark  fel- 
low is  Watson  de  Windt.  His  family  arrived  in 
Newport,  last  week,  on  a  private  train,  with  forty 
servants,  thirty  horses,  and  two  dozen  automobiles. 
I  don't  know  who  all  the  rest  of  the  men  are. 
They've  come  over  from  Newport. " 

As  Nora  danced,  she  became  distinctly  conscious 
that  the  famous  financier  was  singling  her  out  to 
watch.  Several  times  she  caught  his  eye.  She 
was  looking  especially  lovely  and  she  knew  it. 
Also  she  had  the  prettiest  figure  in  the  room. 

She  turned  all  sorts  of  schemes  over  in  her  mind, 


THe   Road  to  Mecca  189 

as  she  talked  to  her  various  partners — all  of  them 
so  suddenly  uninteresting.  She  thought  of  a 
sprained  ankle,  but  that  would  be  no  good;  or  of 
fainting,  but  she  didn't  know  how  to  faint,  and  it 
would  be  equally  useless ;  or  of  dropping  a  fan,  or  a 
handkerchief,  near  the  table  of  notables,  but  that 
would  only  mean  that  her  partner  would  pick  it 
up  and  restore  it  to  her. 

Finally,  as  she  was  sitting  en  tete-a-tete  at  a 
table  with  one  of  her  partners,  sipping  an  iced 
drink,  she  obeyed  a  sudden  unreasoning  impulse 
and  sent  him  in  quest  of  her  wrap. 

The  moment  she  was  alone,  one  of  the  younger 
men  in  the  Newport  crowd  came  over  and  asked 
her  to  dance. 

Her  resolve  was  taken  in  a  moment.  She  would 
pretend  to  think  that  she  had  met  him,  and  would 
dance  with  him. 

After  they  had  made  the  circuit  of  the  floor  a 
few  times,  chattering  the  usual  ballroom  chatter, 
her  partner  challenged  her: 

"You  don't  remember  me,  do  you?  Be  honest, 
now. " 

She  shook  her  head,  laughingly.  "Of  course, 
I  remember  meeting  you,"  she  assured  him,  "but, 
to  be  perfectly  truthful,  I  have  forgotten  your 
name.  You  see,  I've  met  hundreds  of  men  since 
I  came  here, — in  the  ocean  and  out  of  it, — and 
they  look  so  different  in  the  water,  I  simply 
cannot  remember  all  the  names. " 

"Well,"  he  laughed,  "an  honest  confession  is 


190  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

good  for  the  soul.  So  I'll  make  one  too.  I'm  in 
exactly  the  same  box.  I  remember  everything 
about  you  except  your  name.  We  chatted  on 
the  beach,  the  other  morning." 

(All  this  time,  Nora  knew  perfectly  well  that  she 
had  never  before  set  eyes  on  the  man,  and  that  he 
was  merely  obeying  orders  in  seeking  her  name. 
But  it  was  a  pretty  game,  and  a  subtle  one,  and 
she  was  quite  willing  to  play  it.) 

"I  am  Mrs.  Prentiss, "  she  announced. 

"  Of  course  you  are.  How  stupid  of  me  to  have 
forgotten.  And  my  name  is  Shepard.  Let's 
sit  down  at  this  table  and  order  something.  It's 
so  warm. " 

The  moment  they  were  seated,  Mr.  Leeds  rose 
and,  leaving  his  party,  approached  them.  He  was 
presented  and  invited  to  join  them,  which  he  did. 
Mr.  Shepard,  having  fulfilled  the  mission  assigned 
him,  faded  into  silence. 

Mr.  Leeds  was  looking  at  Nora  ardently,  while 
everyone  else  in  the  room  was  looking  at  her 
enviously.  (Fortunately,  Edith  was  out  "two- 
zing.") 

"Have  you  a  house  here,  Mrs.  Prentiss?"  asked 
the  great  man. 

"No,  I  am  simply  stopping  at  a  hotel  with  a 
friend.  My  home  is  in  Maynardstown. " 

"You  are  not  the  wife  of  Robert  W.  Prentiss,  by 
any  chance?  The  man  who  has  been  making  such 
a  stir  in  the  Street?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Nora,  "he  is  my  husband." 


'     THe  Road  to  Mecca  191 

"  You  don't  tell  me  so !  I  have  been  meaning  for 
some  time  to  meet  him.  He  is  a  clever  man,  Mrs. 
Prentiss. " 

"So  they  tell  me,"  she  smiled. 

"  Is  he  clever  enough  to  take  care  of  such  a  pretty 
wife?" 

She  gave  him  an  arch  glance,  then  dropped  her 
eyes. 

At  that  moment,  Edith  re-entered  the  room  and 
looked  around  for  Nora.  Her  jaw  fell  when  she 
saw  the  group  and,  with  scarcely  a  moment's 
hesitation,  she  made  a  bee-line  towards  it. 

Mr.  Leeds  was  sitting  facing  her  approach. 
Reading  her  evident  intention,  he  rose  and,  taking 
Nora's  hand,  said: 

"I  will  see  you  again  before  I  go.  Don't  leave 
without  giving  me  the  chance." 

And  he  made  his  escape  just  in  time  to  foil 
Edith's  plans. 

Mr.  Shepard,  being  forced  to  remain,  was  pre- 
sented. He  gave  Edith  a  bold  stare  all  up  and 
down  the  length  of  her  figure,  then  asked  Nora  for 
the  dance  that  was  just  starting.  He  did,  how- 
ever, dance  the  next  one  with  Edith,  to  her  eternal 
delight.  The  sight  had  also  the  admirable  effect 
of  bringing  the  recreant  Mr.  Payson  to  speedy 
terms. 

As  soon  as  Nora's  dance  with  Mr.  Shepard  was 
over,  Mr.  Leeds  claimed  her  and  took  her  out  for 
a  stroll. 

*'I  find  our  party  is  just  about  to  start  back  to 


192  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Newport,"  he  announced.  "There  is  only  one 
attractive  woman  here  tonight,  anyhow.  How 
long  are  you  remaining  in  Narragansett,  Mrs. 
Prentiss?" 

"For  some  time, "  she  assured  him. 

"Good,"  he  commented,  "good.  I  am,  unfor- 
tunately, starting  off  on  a  yachting  trip  tomorrow 
morning.  But  I  shall  be  back  in  ten  days  and  I 
want  to  find  you  here.  Remember,  you  must  wait 
for  me.  You  will,  won't  you?" 

"Indeed  I  will." 

•  "That's  right.  I  want  to  see  you  again.  I 
want  to  see  you  very  often. "  He  was  holding  her 
hand,  half  in  farewell,  and  half  in  a  sort  of  fatherly 
manner.  He  now  ran  his  finger  up  her  bare  arm 
and  down  again.  "Such  a  pretty  arm,"  he  ob- 
served. "You  have  a  wonderful  figure,  Mrs. 
Prentiss.  I  shall  have  to  watch  you  swim  when  I 
come  back. " 

His  group  left  immediately  upon  his  return  to 
the  Casino,  and  the  evening  was  over  for  Nora. 
She  asked  one  of  the  men  in  her  party  to  take  her 
back  to  the  hotel  and,  on  returning,  to  explain  to 
Edith  that  she  was  tired.  She  must  have  time  to 
think — to  do  much  thinking. 

Nothing  under  Heaven  could  take  her  away, 
now.  But  how  could  she  manage  about  Edith 
when  Mr.  Leeds  came  back?  Edith  would  be 
crazy  to  meet  him,  and  he  evidently  was  not  at  all 
eager  to  meet  her.  Nor  did  Nora  care  to  effect 
the  introduction. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  193 

She  had  ten  days  in  which  to  act.  The  only 
plan  which  suggested  itself,  at  present,  was  this: 
she  could  write  to  Harry,  asking  him  to  regard  her 
letter  as  confidential,  and  telling  him  that  for  his 
own  sake  and  Edith's  he  should  come  and  take 
her  home.  She  could  mention  Mr.  Payson,  and 
that  would  be  enough. 

That  would  fix  Edith.  But  how  could  Nora, 
herself,  manage  to  stay  on?  Could  she  coax  Bob 
down  for  a  fortnight's  rest?  She  doubted  her 
power  to  persuade  him  and  he  would  be  in  the  way, 
anyhow.  Should  she  have  a  sudden  access  of 
maternal  love  and  decide  to  give  her  children 
two  weeks  of  sea-air?  Bob,  ignorant  of  the  place, 
might  be  duped  by  that. 

Turning  all  these  things  over  and  over  in  her 
mind,  she  finally  fell  asleep. 

When  Therese  appeared  in  the  morning  she  held 
a  telegram.  Nora's  heart  sank  at  the  sight  of  the 
ugly  yellow  envelope. 

"This  has  just  arrived,  Madame, "  said  Therese. 

Nora  tore  it  open.     It  read: 

"Come  home  immediately.  Patty  desperately 
ill. 

"R.   W.   P." 
13 


CHAPTER  XXII 

NORA  was  furious  at  the  scurvy  trick  Fate  was 
playing  her. 

She  would  not  go,  she  told  herself,  angrily.  She 
had  never  had  a  real  chance,  before.  (A  real 
chance!  Poor  Nora!  Some  women  in  her  shoes 
would  have  considered  themselves  rather  lucky. 
But,  as  Nora's  standards  progressed,  each  new 
opportunity  did,  indeed,  become  the  first  of  its 
kind.) 

There  was  nothing  the  matter  with  Patricia 
anyhow,  continued  Nora's  mind.  She  had  always 
been  an  unusually  strong  and  healthy  child.  Bob 
was  such  a  fool  over  his  children;  he  was  forever 
taking  alarm  at  trifles.  He  knew  nothing  of 
sickness. 

Nor  did  Nora,  as  a  matter  of  fact.  She  had 
never  come  into  contact  with  either  sickness  or 
death.  That  is  why  they  seemed  but  names  to 
her.  Even  her  active  imagination  did  not  paint 
them  as  real.  Lacking  experience,  she  had  nothing 
to  measure  by. 

She  was  not  in  the  least  worried,  not  alarmed 
for  a  moment.  She  was  simply  exceedingly  angry 

at  this  interference  with  her  plans. 

194 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  195 

No  matter  what  she  might  say  to  herself,  she 
knew  in  her  heart  that  she  must  go.  Bob  would 
never  forgive  that  sort  of  indifference.  She  had 
to  go. 

Perhaps  she  might  get  back.  Ten  days  were 
quite  a  long  time. 

She  sent  a  return  message,  "Starting  at  once," 
and  went  in  to  break  the  bad  news  to  Edith. 

Edith  received  her  coldly.  There  were  a  few 
things  to  be  threshed  out  between  them  because 
of  the  last  two  evenings.  Nora's  news  had,  at 
least,  that  good  effect.  It  spared  all  explanations 
about  Edith's  wading-party  and  Nora's  remarkable 
acquaintance  with  Mr.  Leeds. 

"You  can't  go,"  cried  Edith,  of  course.  She 
always  denied  even  the  possible  existence  of 
anything  that  she  didn't  desire. 

"I  must  go,"  answered  Nora,  "and  immedi- 
ately." 

The  only  satisfaction  she  got  out  of  the  thing 
was  Edith's  dismay  and  inconvenience.  The 
more  Edith  stormed,  the  more  determined,  and 
moral,  and  maternal,  and  resigned,  did  Nora  grow. 

"It  will  spoil  her  fun,  anyhow,  the  little  cat," 
she  kept  telling  herself  behind  clenched  teeth. 
"  I  won't  be  the  only  one  to  suffer. " 

"  But  Harry  will  never  let  me  stay  without  you, " 
wailed  Edith,  "not  even  with  Mama.  He  dis- 
covered some  things  and  put  his  foot  down.  Oh 
Nora,  can't  you  possibly  fix  it  to  stay?  Wire  home 
and  see  if  there  isn't  some  improvement. " 


196  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Nora  shook  a  firm  head. 

"My  child  needs  me,  and  I  must  go  to  her," 
she  declared  primly.  "You  are  not  a  mother, 
Edith;  you  know  nothing  of  such  feelings."  (She 
was  actually  getting  a  little  pleasure  out  of  it. 
When,  as  a  child,  Nora  used  sometimes  to  suffer 
from  toothache,  she  would  go  to  the  barn,  fasten 
up  the  old  hound,  and  kick  him  until  he  howled. 
Edith  was  her  present  hound.) 

"  I  wish  all  the  children  in  the  world  were  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea,"  raved  Edith.  "Harry  will 
come  down  here  the  minute  you  are  gone.  He  will 
try  to  get  me  home  and,  if  I  don't  go,  he  will  stick 
so  close  to  my  side  that  I  might  just  as  well  give 
up  and  let  him  take  me.  My  trip  is  ruined." 

"  I  wish  you  knew  what  I'm  giving  up,  you  little 
fool, "  thought  Nora.  And  the  thought,  putting  a 
sharper  point  on  her  own  woes,  made  her  nastier 
than  ever  to  Edith. 

There  was  a  flurry  of  packing  and  Nora  departed 
by  the  first  possible  train.  On  her  journey,  her 
thoughts  were  scarcely  at  all  with  her  sick  child. 
How  could  she  get  back  in  time?  Failing  that, 
how  could  she  make  explanation  to  Mr.  Leeds? 
She  couldn't  write  him.  Even  her  determination 
stopped  at  that.  He  was  too  great  a  person  and 
she  might  make  herself  ridiculous.  (Nora's  horror 
of  appearing  ridiculous  was  one  of  her  weakest 
points.  She  would  have  been  the  better  for  a  little 
of  Edith's  sans  gene.}  The  great  financier  might 
never  have  intended  to  come  back.  He  might 


The  Road  to  Mecca  197 

merely  have  been  making  a  flirtatious  remark  to 
a  pretty  woman.  He  might  have  been  drinking. 
Nora's  pose  of  expectation,  of  taking  his  remark 
au  grand  serieux  might  make  her  look  like  a  fool. 
She  would  be  like  that  greatly  over-rated  juvenile 
idiot,  the  Boy  who  Stood  on  the  Burning  Deck. 

No,  she  couldn't  write.  And,  secretly,  she  knew 
that  she  would  not  return.  How  vile!  How  vile! 
How  VILE  !  ("Vile  "  was  one  of  Edith's  pet  words.) 

Nora's  arrival  in  Maynardstown  proved  her 
trip  not  to  have  been  unnecessary.  Patricia  was 
indeed  desperately  ill.  The  doctor  at  first  feared 
infantile  paralysis. 

"Infantile  paralysis?"  echoed  Nora.  "Isn't 
that  the  thing  that  leaves  them  lame,  or  rickety?" 
(She  would  rather  have  Patricia  dead,  than 
crippled.) 

"Sometimes,"  observed  the  doctor  rather 
shortly. 

He  was  one  of  the  few  men  who  never  found 
Nora  attractive.  "  She's  an  odd  one, "  was  all  that 
he  would  ever  say,  in  discussing  her.  He  had  an 
intense  sense  of  professional  etiquette,  and  no  sick- 
room disclosure  ever  passed  his  lips.  But,  just 
as  Mr.  Wilde  (the  Rector  of  St.  Michael's)  always 
spoke  of  Nora  as  "  a  devoted  mother,  a  wonderfully 
devoted  mother,"  so  did  gruff  old  Dr.  Barnes 
always  designate  her  as  "an  odd  one." 

Patricia  did  not,  however,  have  infantile  paraly- 
sis; she  was  spared  that.  The  Fates  were  still 
busy  weaving  the  web  of  Nora  Prentiss's  life  with 


198  TKe  Road  to  Mecca 

bright-coloured  threads.  Whether  or  not  they 
would  tire  of  the  task  in  time,  whether  or  not  they 
would  decide  on  some  dull  tones  for  the  sake  of 
sharper  artistic  contrast,  remained  yet  to  be  seen; 
but  at  present,  they  were  entirely  satisfied  with  the 
effect  of  rose,  and  gold,  and  turquoise,  and  purple. 
"Purple  and  fine  linen,"  indeed! 

A  trained  nurse  was,  of  course,  in  charge  of 
Patricia's  case,  and  convalescence  was  long  and 
slow.  The  emaciated  little  shadow  in  the  white 
cot  bore  but  small  resemblance  to  the  rosy  romp- 
ing girl  that  Nora  had  left  in  mid- July.  Robert 
Prentiss  haunted  the  house.  All  businesss-calls 
found  him  with  deaf  ears.  He  paced  up  and  down 
the  rooms  like  a  caged  lion,  watching  faces,  hearing 
verdicts,  listening  for  crumbs  of  comfort.  He  got 
on  Nora's  nerves  to  the  last  degree.  She  had  to 
keep  a  constant  guard  on  herself.  The  hours  that 
her  husband  spent  with  their  son,  out  in  the  big 
shady  grounds  of  the  house,  were  her  hours  of 
relaxation.  She  passed  them  generally  in  her  own 
suite  of  rooms,  caring  to  do  nothing  but  think, 
think,  think.  Her  face  got  a  hard  set  sort  of  ex- 
pression. Noting  this  one  day,  in  her  mirror,  she 
made  immediate  conscious  effort  to  overcome  it. 
She  began  to  have  facial  massage  every  afternoon. 

She  heard  that  Edith  had  been  dragged  home, 
and  she  smiled  grimly.  Served  her  right. 

She  heard  that  Beechwold  was  to  be  reoccupied 
in  late  September  and  she  began  to  count  the  weeks 
and  to  lay  plans. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  199 

She  heard  that,  if  all  went  well  and  there  were  no 
relapses,  Patricia  might  be  moved  into  the  new 
house  by  the  date  when  they  had  originally  planned 
occupying  it, — October  first, — and  she  heaved  a 
sigh  of  relief. 

And%  finally,  she  heard  that  Patricia's  recovery 
would  be  hastened  by  two  or  three  weeks  of  moun- 
tain air,  and  she  prepared  herself  for  exile  to  some 
quiet  place,  about  to  be  chosen  by  Dr.  Barnes.  It 
was  not  so  much  of  an  exile,  after  all.  No  one  was 
at  home  yet,  in  Maynardstown,  and,  had  they 
been,  circumstances  would  have  prohibited  Nora's 
seeing  them.  Moreover,  she  was  preparing  for  the 
mountebank  trick  which  Edith  had  once  attempted 
so  unsuccessfully — she  was  going  to  "  shake  a  set, " 
in  order  to  "make  a  set."  Absence  would  do  her 
no  harm. 

She  and  the  two  children,  the  trained  nurse, 
Maggie,  and  Therese,  left  for  the  mountains. 
During  their  absence,  the  removal  to  the  new 
house  would  be  effected.  There  was,  of  course, 
nothing  to  move  except  personal  possessions. 
They  had  rented  their  present  home  completely 
furnished. 

Bob  was  to  come  up  and  spend  the  last  ten  days 
with  them  in  the  mountains,  and  they  were  all  to 
return  together  to  begin  the  new  life  in  the  new 
home. 

Another  picture  in  the  panorama  of  Nora's 
life  slipped  into  darkness  and  oblivion,  while  a 
fresh  one  filled  its  place.  When  next  she  made 


2OO  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

her  appearance  in  Maynardstown,  it  would  be  as 
the  chdtelaine  of  one  of  its  most  beautiful  and 
imposing  homes — a  home  that  was  a  gift  from  her 
husband  to  her. 

All  she  needed  now  was  the  circle  of  friends  on 
which  she  had  set  her  heart.  Alas!  that  is  one 
of  the  few  things  that  money  cannot  always  buy. 
Not  altogether;  but  it  is  never  a  drawback! 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

NORA  had  been  settled  a  fortnight  in  her  new 
home  and,  for  once,  in  her  life  she  was  satisfied, — • 
almost. 

The  qualifying  deterrent  was  her  social  progress, 
or  rather  its  lack. 

She  saw  plainly  that  church,  alone,  wasn't  going 
to  work  her  miracle.  What  would?  she  wondered. 

Suddenly  she  had  a  flash  of  inspiration!  That 
creche  (she  knew  now  what  a  creche  was),  and  that 
club  for  poor  women  in  which  Mrs.  Van  Twiner 
was  so  interested !  Why  couldn't  they  be  used  as 
social  wedges? 

She  began  to  cudgel  her  busy  brain.  A  dona- 
tion in  the  shape  of  a  fat  cheque  wouldn't  do, 
because  it  wouldn't  bring  her  into  personal  contact 
with  the  patronne  of  the  charities.  A  cheque 
would  merely  be  acknowledged  by  a  polite  note 
and  that  would  be  the  end  of  it. 

Nora  clearly  saw  that  she  would  have  to  do  an 
irksome  thing.  She  would  have  to  simulate  an 
interest  in  those  women,  or  those  babies,  and  go 
down  and  work  amongst  them.  It  would  be  a 
horrible  bore,  but  it  was  the  only  way.  She  de- 

201 


2O2  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

cided  in  favour  of  the  women,  as  slightly  better 
than  the  babies. 

She  must  write  a  note  to  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  de- 
scribing her  own  overpowering  interest  in  such 
work  and  begging  permission  to  help  in  it. 

The  note  was  the  work  of  four  days.  Sheet 
after  sheet  of  monogrammed  paper  did  Nora 
cover  and  destroy.  She  tried  every  shade  and 
every  shape  of  stationery.  She  phrased  and  re- 
phrased; one  effort  sounded  too  eager — reading 
between  the  lines  as  she  did,  she  fancied  any  one 
would  detect  social  push;  another  was  too  stiff 
and  formal,  there  was  no  "personal  tone,"  to  it. 
No  one  would  be  immediately  attracted  to  its 
writer.  She  had  never  imagined  a  note  could  be 
so  hard  to  write. 

Even  her  handwriting  failed  to  suit  her.  It 
seemed  to  have  no  style.  It  looked  namby-pamby. 

At  last,  the  all-important  note  was  finished, 
not  to  her  satisfaction  but  to  the  best  of  her 
apparent  ability.  Then  arose  the  question  of  how 
to  send  it — by  bearer,  or  by  mail.  Nora  wisely 
decided  in  favour  of  the  latter. 

After  despatching  it,  she  went  into  a  fever  of 
impatience  and  uncertainty.  Had  she  done  a  wise 
thing?  If  it  failed,  what  could  she  try  next?  She 
watched  the  posts  like  a  lover  in  hope  of  a  missive 
from  his  sweetheart. 

At  the  end  of  three  or  four  days  her  answer 
came.  A  plain  business  letter — written  by  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner's  social  secretary.  It  was  properly 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  203 

grateful,  though  not  extravagantly  so,  and  sug- 
gested that  Nora  should  go  at  three  o'clock  on 
Friday  afternoons  (not  any  one  Friday  afternoon, 
— but  "afternoons";  it  sounded  as  though  she 
had  taken  a  contract  on  Eternity),  and  "amuse  the 
women  by  telling  them  stories. " 

Telling  them  stories!  What  kind  of  stories? 
And  why  such  an  inane  pastime? 

The  note  continued :  ' '  Most  of  the  women  speak 
some  English  and  a  few  are  even  Americans. 
They  are  always  served  with  tea  and  refreshments, 
but  it  is  sometimes  a  little  difficult  to  interest  and 
entertain  them.  They  do  not  respond  to  games, 
nor  can  they  ever  be  persuaded  to  bring  their  work. 
They  seem  to  feel  that  home  is  the  place  for  that. 
Reading  to  them  has  proved  a  failure,  probably 
because  the  language  is  not  sufficiently  simple 
and  there  is  the  lack  of  human  intercourse  between 
the  eye  of  the  reader  and  that  of  the  listener. 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner  has  just  evolved  this  scheme  of 
story-telling  and  will  be  very  grateful  for  Mrs. 
Prentiss'  help. "  Choice  as  to  style  of  story  was 
left  entirely  open,  and  the  writer  signed  herself, 
"Very  truly  yours, 

"EMILY  BENTON. 
"For  MRS.  MARCUS  VAN  TWINER." 

Well,  Nora  had  schemed  for  it,  and  invited  it. 
Now  it  was  "up  to  her." 

She  almost  went  into  a  fever.  What  kind  of 
stories  should  she  tell?  She  thought  of  fairy-tales, 


204  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

but  they  would  be  too  young  and  too  silly.  She 
could  not  risk  making  herself  ridiculous.  She 
must  not  bother  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  again  on  the 
subject.  That  would  look  like  ignorance  and  lack 
of  resource. 

There  were  four  days  till  Friday.  Nora  went  to 
town,  and  to  a  big  book-store.  Its  employees  were 
surprisingly  ignorant.  They  didn't  know  what 
she  wanted  any  better  than  she  knew,  herself. 
What  were  they  for,  anyhow?  If  she  knew  all 
about  it,  she  wouldn't  need  them,  would  she? 

They  showed  her  novels  and  collections  of  hero- 
tales.  "No,  not  those,"  she  said  fretfully,  reject- 
ing the  latter.  "I  want  them  for  grown  women — 
and  not  a  novel,  either.  It  isn't  for  that  kind  of 
woman.  Nothing  as  long  as  a  novel.  No.  Can't 
you  suggest  something?" 

She  wavered  a  long  while  over  the  immortal 
story  of  "Gallagher,"  enthusiastically  recom- 
mended by  the  exhausted  salesman.  The  little 
newsboy  and  his  ultimate  good  fortune  appealed 
to  her  sense  of  fitness,  but  she  took  fright  at  the 
prize-fight  and  its  crowd  of  unrefined  watchers  and 
the  criminal  finally  entrapped  there. 

"No,  no,"  she  cried,  "I'm  sure  that  wouldn't  do, 
at  all.  Nothing  criminal.  The  moral  tendency 
must  be  good,  and  it  must  be  simple,  and  interest- 
ing, neither  too  long  nor  too  short,  and  suited  to 
adult  intellects,  but  untutored  ones,  you  know. " 

The  salesmen  exchanged  glances.  As  usual, 
Nora  wanted  the  earth. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  205 

She  finally  gave  an  order  for  a  number  of  vol- 
umes of  short  stories,  more  than  she  could  read 
in  two  months,  and  left  the  shop  thoroughly 
dissatisfied,  and  convinced  of  the  stupidity  of 
employees  taken  as  a  class. 

For  the  next  three  days,  she  did  little  but  read 
and  reject.  Occasionally,  when  the  thought 
flashed  over  her  that  this  was  but  the  first  of  a 
long  series  of  days,  she  would  stamp  her  foot  in 
rage. 

Friday  afternoon  arrived.  The  motor  was 
ordered  for  ten  minutes  before  three,  and  Nora 
left  the  luncheon- table  to  make  her  toilet. 

Here,  she  was  in  no  danger  of  erring.  A  simple 
serge  frock  and  a  plain  hat  were  her  choice. 
(Incidentally,  their  combined  price  was  nearly 
three  hundred  dollars.) 

She  found  her  audience  assembled.  A  crowd 
of  women,  fat  and  thin,  sallow,  and  florid,  plain 
and  pretty,  all  waiting  stolidly  to  be  "amused," 
all  ready  to  accept  everything  and  to  give  nothing 
in  return — not  even  interest. 

A  hasty  glance  around  the  room  assured  Nora 
that  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  not  there.  Indeed,  no 
one  was  there  but  Nora,  her  audience,  and  two  of 
the  Van  Twiner  servants,  busy  in  the  preparation 
of  the  four  o'clock  repast  that  was  the  real  drawing- 
card.  Nora  bit  her  lip  to  keep  back  the  tears. 

"How  do  you  do?'1  she  greeted  the  assemblage 
with  mock  brightness ;  and  she  repeated  the  phrase 
over  and  over  again  as  she  caught  various  eyes 


206  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

in  the  crowd.  Most  of  the  fat  florid  women  smiled 
vacuously  in  response;  most  of  the  thin  sallow 
ones  didn't;  many  never  even  changed  expression; 
they  might  have  been  stone  images. 

There  was  no  one  to  instruct  Nora,  nor  to  make 
suggestions.  She  was  forced  to  act  on  her  own 
initiative. 

She  drew  a  chair  in  front  of  her  audience  and 
began  to  speak.  (One  whole  hour  to  be  con- 
sumed.) 

"Mrs.  Van  Twiner,"  she  smiled,  "thought  it 
would  be  nice  if  I  would  come  and  tell  you 
some  stories.  You  like  stories,  don't  you?" 

"Ya-as, "  answered  certain  of  them  sheepishly, 
conscious  that  some  answer  was  demanded. 

"No-o-o, "  replied  others,  shaking  moral  heads 
of  dissent.  They  thought  they  were  about  to 
receive  a  lecture  on  veracity  and  the  dangers  of 
lying  and  they  wished  to  range  themselves  with 
the  sheep  rather  than  the  goats.  "Stories  no 
good." 

Still  others  made  no  response,  whatever.  Nora 
was  in  despair. 

"  I'm  going  to  tell  you  about  two  little  children, " 
she  announced,  hurrying  to  her  task.  "Two  dear 
little  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl,  just  like  your 
own,  perhaps.  Have  you  a  little  boy  and  a  little 
girl,  any  of  you?" 

They  declined  to  commit  themselves  on  this 
important  subject.  Nora  rushed  on : 

"These  two  little  children  saved  a  train  from 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  207 

being  wrecked.  A  great  big  express-train.  They 
didn't  have  any  red  flag  to  wave,  so  they  waved  the 
boy's  shirt.  It  was  made  of  red  flannel.  They 
were  walking  along  and  they  saw  the  train  was 
going  to  be  wrecked,  and  they  hadn't  any  danger- 
flag,  so  the  boy  took  off  his  shirt,  and  they  waved 
that,  and  they  saved  the  train.  And  there  were  a 
lot  of  rich  men  on  the  train,  and  they  were  so  glad 
to  be  saved  that  they  gave  the  children  a  lot  of 
money,  so  that  they  were  never  poor  any  more. " 

She  suddenly  realized  that  her  story  was  finished. 
It  had  taken  less  than  a  minute.  What  was  she 
to  do?  She  couldn't  tell  sixty  stories! 

She  was  inspired  by  a  sudden  idea.  "Now, 
perhaps  some  of  you  can  tell  me  a  story, "  she  sug- 
gested brightly.  "We  will  take  turns.  First 
I'll  tell  one,  then  one  of  you  shall  tell  one.  I'm 
sure  you  know  some.  Who  will  begin?" 

This  fell  absolutely  flat.  No  one  began.  No 
one  even  smiled.  Nora  was  forced  back  to  her 
role  of  entertainer. 

The  long  hour  dragged  itself  away.  She  had 
never  known  one  so  slow  in  taking  flight.  Toward 
its  close,  she  noted  the  quiet  entrance  of  a  woman 
whom  she  had  never  before  seen.  The  newcomer 
went  over  to  the  servants  and  inspected  their  work. 

At  last,  the  moment  of  release  arrived.  Nora 
rose  from  her  chair.  Had  she  not  been  so  de- 
pressed, she  could  have  sung  a  pasan  of  triumph. 

She  was  approached  by  the  quiet  woman  in 
black  who  had  been  the  last  to  enter. 


208  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Mrs.  Prentiss?"  she  asked. 
•  Nora  bowed. 

"I  am  Miss  Benton,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  secre- 
tary. She  wished  me  to  thank  you  for  your  kind- 
ness and  to  say  that  she  hopes  she  can  depend  on 
you  to  continue  this  work?" 

She  was  a  thin-lipped  tired-looking  woman, 
refined  and  educated,  but  totally  uninteresting. 
System,  one  could  see,  would  be  her  forte.  En- 
thusiasm on  any  subject,  she  would  never  exhibit. 

She  and  Nora  talked  for  a  while,  and  directed 
the  serving  of  the  really  excellent  repast  that  Mrs. 
Van  Twirier  always  provided.  Then  Nora,  seeing 
there  was  nothing  more  to  be  done,  telephoned  for 
her  car. 

"Shall  I  see  you  next  Friday?"  she  asked  Miss 
Benton  in  parting. 

"Yes;  it  is  one  of  my  duties  to  supervise  these 
meetings  while  we  are  at  Beech  wold, "  answered 
the  colourless  secretary.  "Mrs.  Van  Twiner  used 
to  come,  herself.  But  she  is  of  a  very  nervous 
and  highly-strung  temperament  and  she  found  it 
upset  her.  Thank  you  for  your  efforts,  Mrs. 
Prentiss. " 

Nora  had  gleaned  the  information  she  wanted. 

She  drove  home  and,  ringing  for  Therese,  she 
went  straight  to  bed.  Bob  was  away  for  three  or 
four  days  and  she  (Nora)  had  been  engaged  to 
dine  with  some  people  she  especially  disliked. 
She  had  been  trapped  into  accepting  the  invitation 
which  had  been  given  by  word  of  mouth.  But 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  209 

such  an  evening,  on  top  of  such  an  afternoon, 
would  be  more  than  she  could  possibly  stand. 
She  had  Therese  telephone  and  say  that  Mrs. 
Prentiss  had  a  severe  nervous  headache  and  that 
"by  the  doctor's  orders"  she  was  forced  to  remain 
in  bed. 

Once  there,  she  first  permitted  herself  to  weep 
tears  of  rage.  Then,  having  swallowed  the  strong 
tea  which  Therese  brought  her,  she  put  her  brain 
to  work.  At  last,  she  almost  smiled. 

On  the  following  Friday,  Nora  ordered  her  car 
for  the  same  hour,  dressed  with  the  same  care, 
and  concerned  herself  not  at  all  over  her  stories. 
Nobody  but  the  women  heard  them,  anyhow. 
Any  old  thing  would  do. 

At  the  end  of  the  afternoon,  she  confided  to  Miss 
Benton: 

"I  am  so  interested  in  these  poor  creatures,  I 
can  not  get  them  out  of  my  mind.  Their  lives 
must  be  so  dreary.  I  was  wondering  if  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner  would  be  willing  to  let  me  give  them  a 
party,  here,  you  know,  in  the  rooms  they  are 
accustomed  to.  I  thought  it  might  be  nice  to 
have  an  evening-party  and  to  allow  them  to  invite 
their  husbands  and  their  friends.  I  would  fur- 
nish an  orchestra  and  some  sort  of  an  enter- 
tainer— a  sleight-of-hand  performer,  or  a  magic 
lantern,  or  something  of  that  sort.  And  then  a 
supper.  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  would 
be  willing?" 

Miss  Benton  had  listened  non-committally.  She 
14 


2io  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

now  raised  a  slight  objection  or  two,  but  Nora 
overruled  them  all.  Finally  the  secretary  said : 

"I  will  mention  it  to  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  if  you 
like." 

"Do,"  begged  Nora.  "Tell  her  I  am  so  inter- 
ested and  so  anxious  to  do  my  little  share.  I 
always  feel  that  those  of  us  whose  lines  are  cast 
in  pleasant  places  have  a  duty  to  fulfil  toward  the 
less  fortunate.  I  wonder  if  Mrs.  Van  Twiner 
would  mind  calling  me  up  about  it?  Mrs.  Robert 
Prentiss, — my  telephone  number  is  907." 

"I  will  tell  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,"  promised  Miss 
Benton,  and  they  parted. 

On  Saturday,  Sunday,  or  Monday,  Nora  heard 
nothing  from  Mrs.  Van  Twiner.  She  was  feeling 
a  little  sick  at  heart  and  had  purposely  refrained 
from  going  to  church.  By  Monday  night,  she  was 
a  prey  to  the  deepest  depression.  If  this  failed, 
she  hadn't  an  idea  what  to  do  next.  Time,  by  the 
way,  always  moves  much  more  slowly  to  those  who 
wait  than  to  those  who  are  keeping  them  waiting. 
The  watched  pot  is  supremely  unconscious  that  it 
may  be  inconveniencing  any  one. 

On  Tuesday  morning,  there  was  a  tap  at  Nora's 
door,  and  Therese  entered  with  a  note.  A  chauf- 
feur was  waiting  for  an  answer.  Nora  opened 
the  missive.  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  wondered  whether 
Mrs.  Prentiss  would  come  to  her  house  in  the  car 
that  was  waiting,  in  order  to  discuss  her  very  kind 
plans  for  entertaining  the  women  of  the  Friday 
Club. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  211 

In  this,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  doing  a  very  clever 
thing.  By  entering  Nora's  house,  she  would 
have  been  committing  herself  to  some  degree  of 
acquaintanceship.  She  would,  at  least,  have 
sat  under  Nora's  roof-tree.  By  telephoning,  she 
might  have  lowered  her  dignity  a  bit  and  she  would 
not  have  been  able  to  study  her  woman.  But  by 
sending  her  car,  she  compromised  herself  in  no 
way.  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  might  interview  any  one 
in  her  own  house, — a  servant  aspiring  to  a  position 
would  come  to  her  there.  By  the  result  of  that 
interview,  she  would  know  exactly  where  to  place 
Nora  and  how  to  treat  her.  And  woe  betide  Nora 
if  (having  proved  undesirable)  she  ever  tried  to 
take  advantage  of  the  meeting.  Mrs.  Van  Twiner 
understood  precisely  how  to  treat  pushers  and 
how  to  put  them  in  their  places.  She  was  a  past- 
mistress  in  the  degrees  of  cordiality. 

On  first  reading  the  note,  Nora's  heart  beat  so 
hard  she  could  feel  it  in  her  ears.  Second  thoughts 
showed  her  that  this  might  mean  anything,  or 
nothing.  And  third  thoughts  pointed  out  very 
clearly  that  it  depended  entirely  upon  Nora,  her- 
self, just  how  much  it  would  eventually  mean. 

Her  first  act  was  to  write  a  note  and  send  it  back 
by  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  chauffeur.  The  note  ex- 
plained, very  prettily,  that  it  grieved  Nora  to 
keep  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  waiting,  but  that  she  was 
just  in  the  midst  of  granting  an  interview  to  the 
secretary  of  a  New  York  charity  in  which  her  hus- 
band was  interested.  She  would  be  free  in  three- 


212  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

quarters  of  an  hour,  and  might  she  then  follow 
her  note? 

This  was  a  stroke  of  genius.  In  the  first  place, 
it  gave  Nora  time  for  a  careful  toilet  (she  was  just 
out  of  her  bath) ;  in  the  second  place,  it  looked 
properly  appreciative  but  not  too  eager;  in  the 
third  place,  it  showed  her  up  as  a  very  busy 
woman;  in  the  fourth  place,  it  made  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner  wait  for  her,  though  on  a  perfectly  allow- 
able pretense;  in  the  fifth  place,  it  gave  Nora  the 
proper  Van  Twiner  cachet  of  allowing  others  to 
come  to  her ;  and  in  the  sixth  place,  it  permitted  her 
to  drive  up  to  the  Van  Twiner  door  in  her  own  very 
beautifully  appointed  car. 

While  Therese  dressed  her,  she  rehearsed  her 
role  again  and  again.  She  decided  in  what 
charity  Bob  was  particularly  interested,  should  she 
be  questioned  (naturally,  by  this  time,  the  de- 
mands upon  their  purse  had  been  numerous),  and 
she  planned  her  exact  line  of  conduct  and  conver- 
sation. Had  she  been  a  praying  woman,  she  would 
certainly  have  knelt  and  prayed  for  success. 

The  Van  Twiner  park  was  very  beautiful.  The 
Van  Twiner  portal  was  impressive.  The  Van 
Twiner  atmosphere  was  as  incense  to  her  nostrils. 
And  the  Van  Twiner  presence  was  Heaven,  itself! 

Nora  was  shown  to  the  morning-room  of  her 
hostess.  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  extended  a  fairly 
cordial  hand,  without  rising. 

"Ah,  Mrs.  Prentiss.  .  .  .  Very  good  of  you 
to  come  to  me.  ...  I  thought  perhaps  it  was 


TKe  Road  to  Mecca  213 

the  best  way  to  discuss  your  very  kind  plan  for  my 
women"  (Mrs.  Van  Twiner  always  owned  any- 
thing in  which  she  was  interested).  "Miss  Ben- 
ton  spoke  to  me  about  it,  immediately  after  the 
Friday  meeting;  but  I  have  had  a  houseful  of 
guests  over  the  week-end." 

"There  was  no  hurry,"  purred  Nora.  Her 
voice  was  always  pretty,  but  just  now  it  was 
especially  soft  and  sweet.  (She  had  the  good  taste, 
however,  to  guard  against  any  affectation  of 
speech  or  pronunciation.)  "It  is  simply  that  I 
should  love  to  do  something  for  them;  something 
that  is  my  own  especial  offering.  You  have  done 
so  much,  always,  that  you  can  understand  the 
feeling." 

"It  is  a  very  nice  idea,"  commended  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner.  "Tell  me  just  what  you  suggest  doing." 

Nora  explained  it  all  charmingly.  She  was 
just  deferential  enough,  and  as  flattering  as  it 
was  possible  to  be  without  being  fawning. 

It  is  wonderful  how  much  flattery  the  Great 
can  swallow  with:  relish,  even  the  truly  Great, 
of  whom  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  certainly  one. 
Nora  laid  hers  on  with  the  proverbial  trowel,  but 
she  wielded  her  trowel  gracefully.  The  fact  that 
she  was  making  an  excellent  impression  was 
apparent  and  it  helped  her  greatly.  Nora's 
intuitions  were  like  the  antennas  of  an  insect; 
they  were  always  feeling  ahead,  in  order  to  avoid 
danger  and  collisions,  and  to  help  direct  her 
course. 


214  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

"And  then,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,"  she  finally 
ventured,  "I  wondered  how  this  would  strike 
you.  There  are  so  many  poor  girls  trying  to 
make  a  living  and  unable  to  get  a  proper  start, — 
educated  girls, — really  quite  refined  nice  girls,  you 
know.  I  was  thinking  that  if  I  could  employ  one 
of  them  to  come  and  entertain  your  women  on 
Fridays,  I  could  do  my  little  share  by  helping  the 
girl.  She  could  tell  them  stories,  or  I  could  get 
someone  to  teach  them  how  to  sew  or  to  give  in- 
struction in  domestic  science.  Whichever  you 
would  decide  upon.  Would  that  strike  you 
favourably?  Of  course,  I  am  only  suggesting." 

"It  is  an  excellent  suggestion, "  agreed  the  great 
lady  blandly.  Nora's  heart  gave  a  jump  of  relief. 
"Had  you  any  one  in  mind?" 

"Oh  no,"  cried  Nora,  shocked  at  the  idea.  "I 
should  not  presume  to  go  as  far  as  that  without 
your  approval.  I  waited  to  consult  you  before 
even  permitting  myself  to  dwell  on  the  idea. 
Possibly  you  have  some  protegee  who  might  like 
the  place?  Or  you  could  engage  any  one  you 
liked  and  merely  let  me  know  when  the  cheques 
were  due." 

It  was  a  long  interview.  Whenever  it  showed 
signs  of  drawing  to  a  close,  Nora  was  on  the  field 
with  a  new  suggestion.  She  had  purposely  de- 
ferred the  meeting  as  late  as  she  had  dared,  in 
the  first  place. 

Finally,  she  glanced  at  her  jewelled  bijou  of  a 
watch,  with  a  startled  air. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  215 

"  But  I  had  no  idea  how  late  I  was  keeping  you, " 
she  cried  in  pretty  contrition.  "It  must  be  your 
luncheon-hour.  May  I  telephone  for  my  car?" 

Suddenly,  the  great  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  took  a 
resolve. 

"Mrs.  Prentiss,"  she  asked,  "do  you  play 
Bridge?" 

"Oh  yes,"  smiled  Nora.  (To  herself  she  was 
crying  exultantly:  "It  is  coming,  it  is  coming. 
I  have  pulled  it  off.") 

"Stay  and  have  luncheon  with  me,"  continued 
her  hostess,  "and  we  will  have  a  game  afterwards. 
I  have  one  guest  still  with  me,  and  Miss  Benton 
does  not  play  a  bad  hand." 

Nora  was  properly  appreciative,  not  too  much 
overcome,  and  hesitated  just  long  enough. 

"Why  I  should  love  to,  of  course, "  she  answered. 
.  .  .  "And  I  think  I  can,  thank  you.  Could 
I  telephone  home  first,  and  ask  about  my  little 
girl?  She  was  very  ill  this  summer  and  she  is 
never  out  of  my  mind." 

"Certainly.     Is  she  your  only  child?" 

"No,  I  have  one  other — a  boy.  He  is  a  little 
younger. " 

When  luncheon  was  announced  Nora  went 
down  with  her  hostess  and  was  presented  to  the 
guest — Mrs.  Parsons.  "We  are  friends  of  a 
life  time,"  announced  Mrs.  Van  Twiner. 

"How  lovely,"  cooed  Nora.  "I  think  the  gift 
of  retaining  friends  is  really  one  of  the  greatest 
of  human  gifts,  and  one  of  the  rarest. " 


216  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"It  is  becoming  unfortunately  rare  in  the 
present  generation,"  agreed  Mrs.  Van  Twiner. 
"There  seem  to  be  no  more  long  friendships. 
They  are  hectic  for  a  little  while  and  then  they 
are  dead.  I  particularly  dislike  the  tendency. 
In  my  day,  friendships  were  never  made  hastily; 
but,  once  made,  they  were  cherished  forever. 
My  dear  mother  used  to  say,  'judge  not  your 
friend  by  his  actions,  but  his  actions  by  your 
friend.'" 

"How  strange!"  cried  Nora,  "that  was  one  of 
my  mother's  favourite  proverbs,  too."  (She  had 
never  even  heard  the  expression  before.)  "My 
mother  always  insisted  that  friendship  was  too 
precious  a  thing  to  be  lightly  made,  or  easily 
relinquished." 

The  two  older  women  smiled  approval  of  such 
admirable  and  well-bred  sentiments. 

This  speech  of  Nora's  had  a  double  cleverness. 
It  made  her  mother  agree  with  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's 
mother;  and,  by  putting  the  two  in  the  same 
generation,  it  also  made  Nora  and  her  hostess 
contemporaries . 

It  was  strange  how  Mrs.  Brewster's  sentiments 
fitted  those  of  the  women  with  whom  Nora  was 
eating  her  luncheon.  "So  my  mother  always 
said,"  "that  is  just  what  I  have  always  been 
taught,"  were  sentences  that  Nora  repeated  again 
and  again  during  the  meal.  Mrs.  Brewster  was 
almost  the  Greek  Chorus  at  the  play.  Finally, 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner  asked: 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  217 

"Who  was  your  mother,  Mrs.  Prentiss,  and 
where  was  your  home?" 

One  might  suppose  that  this  was  an  embarrassing 
question  to  Nora.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  exactly 
what  she  had  been  working  for,  all  through  the 
meal.  While  apparently  merely  assenting  to  the 
conversation,  she  had  deliberately  led  it,  and 
with  an  object. 

"She  is  Mrs.  Brewster, "  she  answered.  "My 
maiden-name  was  Elinor  Brewster.  I  lived  all 
my  life  in  the  country,  and  I  was  very  quietly 
brought  up.  My  parents  had  a  horror  of  some  of 
the  tendencies  of  the  day, — things  that  didn't 
measure  up  to  the  standards  of  their  generation, — 
and  they  tried  to  protect  me  from  them  by  keeping 
me  apart.  It  was  almost  like  being  convent-bred. 
My  father,  not  having  any  business,  was  able  to 
live  where  he  pleased ;  so  we  lived  in  an  old  family 
country-place.  I  was  brought  up  there  somewhat 
like  a  little  fairy-tale  princess, — rather  a  lonely 
little  princess,  I  fear,  for  I  had  no  circle  of  friends, 
anywhere." 

"Better  lonely  than  forming  undesirable  con- 
nections," approved  Mrs.  Van  Twiner.  (The 
impression  had  been  conveyed  to  her  subconscious 
mind  that,  by  permitting  Nora  entrance  to  her 
charmed  circle,  she  would  burden  herself  with  no 
unpleasant  on-hangers.) 

"Yes,  I  can  see  that  now,"  answered  Nora. 
"Fortunately,  I  married  very  young  and  I  had  my 
little  home  near  my  parents.  But  early  in  my 


218  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

married  life,  a  thing  happened  that  caused  them 
great  sorrow.  It  seemed  to  me,  at  the  time,  that 
I  could  not  take  any  course  other  than  that  which 
I  took.  But,  on  looking  back,  I  see  how  right  my 
parents  were. " 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  not  particularly  interested 
but  she  made  the  proper  inquiries. 

"There  was  a  place  near  us,"  continued  Nora, 
"owned  by  a  man  whom  my  family  would  never 
know.  It  was  a  huge  place,  very  showy,  but  very 
vulgar.  And  its  owners  were  just  like  it.  They 
had  made  their  money  in  patent  medicines.  My 
parents  never  crossed  their  threshold.  But  after 
my  marriage,  the  son  of  this  family  married  and 
brought  his  wife  home  to  live.  She  was  a  stranger, 
very  lonely  and  unhappy,  and  she  managed  to  get 
an  introduction  to  me.  She  begged  me  to  come 
to  see  her.  I  didn't  go,  and  she  actually  stormed 
my  house  and  made  the  first  call. " 

"Very  pushing  of  her,"  observed  Mrs.  Parsons; 
"  I  hope  you  snubbed  her. " 

"No,  I  didn't,  and  that  is  where  I  was  wrong. 
I  was  very  young  and  absolutely  unsophisti- 
cated, and  I  felt  sorry  for  her.  I  allowed  my- 
self to  be  drawn  into  a  companionship  that 
almost  broke  my  parents'  hearts.  And  it  seemed 
to  me  that  I  could  not  snub  that  lonely  little 
soul,  without  being  cruel.  But  I  have  paid  for  it 
dearly " 

"One  generally  does,"  responded  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner.  "It  is  easier  to  stay  out  of  an  intimacy 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  219 

than  to  get  out  of  one.  But,  of  course,  as  you  say, 
you  were  very  young. " 

"And  very  trusting  and  unworldly,"  amended 
Nora.  "But  what  do  you  suppose  happened? 
When  we  decided  to  come  to  Maynardstown, — my 
husband's  affairs  made  New  York  an  absolute 
necessity- 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner  nodded.  She  had  been  mak- 
ing some  inquiries  about  Robert  Prentiss,  and  they 
had  all  elicited  eminently  favourable  replies. 

"Well,"  continued  Nora,  "when  we  decided 
to  come  here,  that  little  thing  never  rested  till 
she  got  her  husband  to  come  too. " 

"They  are  here  now?" 

"Yes." 

"Who  are  they?     Any  one  I  know  by  sight?" 

"I  don't  know.  Their  name  is  Little.  The 
Harry  Littles." 

Now  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  interested! 

"  Oh,  but  my  dear  Mrs.  Prentiss, "  she  exclaimed. 
"You  cannot  know  those  people!  They  are 
impossible.  Absolutely  impossible!" 

"But  what  can  I  do?"  pleaded  Nora.  "I  can't 
know  people  one  place  and  not  know  them 
another." 

"Indeed,  you  can,"  cried  Mrs.  Van  Twiner. 
"You  must;  unless  you  are  content  to  go  with  a 
very  undesirable  set,  here.  You  never  wanted 
to  meet  this  woman  in  the  first  place,  you  say. 
She  forced  herself  upon  you.  She  has  therefore 
no  claim  whatever  to  your  consideration." 


220  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"But  she  wouldn't  let  me  drop  her,  if  I  wanted 
to, "  said  Nora. 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  stiffened  slightly. 

"Let  you?"  she  questioned.  "What  has  she  to 
say  about  it?  The  matter  lies  with  you. " 

"  Of  course, "  agreed  Nora  hastily,  seeing  herself 
in  danger  of  erring.  "Of  course  it  does.  And  I 
shall  do  exactly  as  you  say.  I  should  never  dream 
of  introducing  her  to  any  one.  But  I  thought  I 
still  might  be  able  to  help  her  a  little.  I  really 
have  some  influence  over  her." 

"Then,"  counselled  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  "you 
would  better  use  it  in  persuading  her  to  go  some- 
where else  to  live.  In  society,  as  you  doubtless 
know,  you  cannot  mix  your  sets.  And  those 
people  are  quite  beyond  the  pale. " 

Turning  to  Mrs.  Parsons,  she  explained : 

"  She  is  the  woman  who  behaved  so  scandalously 
at  the  Easter  Ball,  at  the  Country  Club.  You 
remember,  I  told  you  about  it?  I  threatened  to 
withdraw  my  membership  unless  they  withdrew 
theirs.  But  the  management  promised  that  such 
a  thing  should  never  happen  again.  They  wrote  to 
her  husband  warning  him  that  a  repetition  of  the 
performance  would  mean  loss  of  membership." 
(This  was  news  to  Nora.  It  was  something  to  hold 
over  Edith.)  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  continued: 

"  It's  an  odd  thing,  but  that  girl  really  has  good 
blood  in  her  veins,  on  one  side.  I  inquired  about 
her  and  I  found  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  an 
acquaintance  of  my  school-days — a  really  very 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  221 

well-born  girl.  She  was  always  a  little  fool  and 
so  was  her  sister.  But  they  had  a  brother  who 
was  handsome  and  fascinating  beyond  words. 
Half  of  my  friends  were  mad  about  him.  I,  my- 
self, had  a  slight  touch  of  the  fever.  Poor  fellow, 
he  died  soon  after  leaving  Harvard.  You  never 
knew  him,  Louise.  You  were  being  finished  in 
Paris  then." 

"No,"  answered  Mrs.  Parsons.  "I  remember 
no  such  Adonis." 

"Well,  he  was  an  Adonis.  And  this  Mrs.  Little 
is  his  niece,  his  own  sister's  child.  Her  mother 
made  a  very  undesirable  match,  for  money.  And 
they  had  plenty  of  it  till  the  girl  was  about  four- 
teen or  fifteen;  then  the  father  lost  everything, 
speculating.  They  lived  from  hand  to  mouth, 
no  one  knew  how.  They  always  dressed  expen- 
sively and  travelled  a  lot.  Unpaid  bills,  I  fancy. 
After  a  while,  the  wheel  turned  and  they  were  on 
top  again  for  a  time.  And  then  they  went  under 
once  more.  The  daughter  married  to  support  the 
family,  I  imagine, — a  thoroughly  vulgar  man.  No 
birth  at  all." 

"  My  husband  plays  golf  with  him, "  Nora  threw 
in.  (She  was  clever  enough  to  tell  all  the  things 
that  would  be  sure  to  crop  out  anyhow.)  "He 
pities  him  tremendously. " 

"  So  would  any  one.  But  remember  what  I  say, 
Mrs.  Prentiss,  you  cannot  mix  your  sets.  Es- 
pecially in  Maynardstown,  where  everyone  knows 
who  is  who. " 


222  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Indeed,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,"  cried  Nora,  "I 
shall  do  exactly  as  you  say.  Exactly!  I  consider 
myself  only  too  fortunate  to  have  such  a  guide.  I 
appreciate  every  word  of  advice  that  you  give  me." 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  smiled  approval.  "Let  us 
have  our  coffee  in  the  library,"  she  suggested, 
"and  get  at  our  game."  Turning  to  the  butler 
she  gave  her  orders:  "Send  up  and  see  whether 
Miss  Benton  has  returned  from  town.  She  was 
due  at  2:15.  And  tell  her  that  I  want  her  in  the 
library  for  Bridge. " 

In  those  days,  Nora  often  yearned  to  say  to  her 
husband:  "Suppose  I  had  never  learned  Bridge!" 
But  she  didn't.  She  was  one  of  the  few  women 
who  are  content  to  let  a  dead  issue  lie,  in  order  to 
concentrate  on  the  next.  That  was  one  of  the 
reasons  that  she  was  able  to  go  so  far.  She  wasted 
no  time  nor  energy  on  questions  that  were  already 
settled. 

The  Van  Twiner  library  was  the  most  impressive 
room  that  Nora  had  ever  seen.  There  was  no  wall 
space ;  it  was  all  taken  up  with  books  and  pictures. 
Books  were  everywhere;  she  had  never  imagined 
so  many  of  them  in  the  possession  of  any  one 
person.  There  were  also  some  beautiful  bronzes, 
some  wonderful  cloisonne,  some  fascinating  Japan- 
ese armour,  and  some  very  rare  tapestries.  With 
her  newly  acquired  knowledge  of  rugs,  Nora  real- 
ized that  she  was  walking  on  priceless  treasures. 

"What  stake  do  you  play,  Mrs.  Prentiss?" 
asked  Mrs.  Van  Twiner. 


[The  Road  to  Mecca  223 

"Any  stake  you  like,"  smiled  Nora. 

"Well,  I  like  a  moderate  stake;  five  cents,  Mrs. 
Parsons  and  I  usually  play.  And,  of  course,  Miss 
Benton  cannot  play  for  a  stake  and  it  would  be 
absurd  for  me  always  to  have  to  carry  her;  so 
it  is  our  habit  to  let  the  table  carry  her.  Is  that 
agreeable  to  you?" 

' '  Absolutely, ' '  Nora  assured  her.  It  would  have 
been  difficult  to  hit  upon  any  idea  that  would 
not  have  been  agreeable  to  her,  under  present 
conditions. 

It  was  astonishing  how  keen  those  two  great 
ladies  were  over  the  stakes  that  they  dubbed 
"nominal."  Either  of  them  would  have  given 
away  ten  times  the  amount  of  that  afternoon's 
play,  without  a  second  thought,  but  neither  of 
them  wanted  to  lose  it. 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  loved  to  win.  There  is 
probably  no  one  who  doesn't;  but  she  was 
particularly  keen  about  it. 

And  she  won  nearly  all  afternoon.  When  Nora 
was  her  partner  she  generally  won;  when  Nora 
was  her  adversary,  she  always  won.  Before  long, 
Mrs.  Parsons 's  lips  were  rather  compressed  and  she 
had  decided  that  Mrs.  Prentiss  played  like  a  fool. 

She  didn't,  though.  The  next  two  rubbers  she 
cut  with  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  and  she  played  as 
brilliant  a  game  as  either  of  the  two  older  women 
had  ever  seen.  She  played  wonderfully. 

The  last  rubber  she  cut  with  Mrs.  Parsons  again 
and,  realizing  that  by  this  time  Mrs.  Van  Twiner 


224  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

was  so  far  ahead  that  nothing  could  hurt  her  and 
that  Mrs.  Parsons  needed  pacifying,  Nora  outdid 
herself,  and  pulled  off  a  tremendous  rubber  for 
her  partner  and  herself. 

Tea  was  served,  debts  were  settled,  Nora's  car 
arrived,  and  she  departed,  after  some  very  grace- 
ful leave-taking,  and  with  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's 
assurance  that  she  must  come  soon  again  and  talk 
over  the  final  arrangements  for  her  charity-party. 

Nora  left  some  discussion  in  her  wake.  The 
subject  was  the  grade  of  her  Bridge;  all  else  was 
submerged. 

"  I  have  always  told  you,  Louise,  that  your  game 
was  too  wooden,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Twiner.  "You 
are  too  rule-bound — it  is  your  one  fault.  Now, 
that  little  Mrs.  Prentiss  knows  her  rules  as  well 
as  you  do,  but  she  is  not  their  slave.  She  is  a 
brilliant  player — a  very  brilliant  player.  I  shall 
have  her  here  often. " 

"  I  hope  it  won't  be  during  my  visits,  if  I  have  to 
play  Bridge  with  her,"  answered  Mrs.  Parsons. 
"You  know  very  well,  Virginia,  that  she  made 
some  unwarranted  plays.  Simply  unwarranted! 
She  did  play  very  brilliantly,  I  grant  you,  much 
of  the  time,  but  she  is  unreliable.  She  is  too 
erratic. " 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  chuckled  as  she  bundled  her 
winnings  into  her  purse. 

The  friendship  of  a  lifetime  suffered  a  rather 
severe  temporary  strain,  on  account  of  Mrs. 
Prentiss's  game  of  Bridge. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  225 

Nora,  herself,  drove  home  in  a  trance  of  bliss. 
She  was  steeped  in  it.  She  was  excited  by  it. 
Because  of  it,  she  could  hardly  think  clearly  or 
consecutively.  She  was  like  someone  just  re- 
covering from  the  effects  of  a  drug. 

"What  am  I  doing  to-night?  "  she  asked  Therese. 
Therese  consulted  the  engagement-book. 

"Madame  is  dining  in  town  and  going  to  the 
theatre,"  she  said.  "Monsieur  is  to  dress  in 
town  and  will  meet  Madame  at  the  restaurant. " 

"  Oh  yes.     Mrs.  Little  is  my  hostess  is  she  not? " 

She  knew  perfectly  well  without  asking,  but 
Therese  did  not  know  that. 

"Yes,  Madame,"  she  answered.  "It  is  Ma- 
dame Little's  name  in  the  book. " 

Nora's  lips  hardened.  "She'd  better  make  the 
best  of  me  while  she  can,"  she  thought  to  herself. 
"  It  won't  last  long. " 

At  dinner  that  evening,  Edith  asked  carelessly: 

"What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself  all 
day,  Nora?"  And  Nora  replied: 

"Oh,  nothing  in  particular.  I  was  out  fora 
few  moments  this  morning,  and  again  this  after- 
noon, and  I  was  in  the  house  all  the  rest  of  the 
day." 

"Why,  I  telephoned  over,"  interrupted  Edith, 
"and  they  told  me  that  you  were  lunching 
out." 

"How  ridiculous,"  said  Nora  flushing.  "My 
servants  are  getting  altogether  too  careless.  I 
must  look  into  it.  I  lunched  early  with  the 

IS 


226  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

children  and  then  went  up  to  the  nursery  with 
them.  Probably  I  was  there  when  you  called  up." 

Edith  darted  her  a  queer  look. 

"Perhaps,"  she  answered.  "I  wouldn't  dis- 
miss the  servants  on  account  of  it,  though,  if  I 
were  you." 

That,  however,  was  one  good  thing  about  Nora 
Prentiss.  She  always  preferred  to  tell  the  truth 
if  she  could.  If  they  wouldn't  let  her,  that  wasn't 
her  fault. 

She  had  an  inherent  belief  that  truth  was  safer 
than  falsehood,  in  the  long  run.  Her  theory  was 
all  right;  the  only  trouble  was  that  she  often  per- 
mitted herself  to  stray  from  it  in  practice. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  blunders.  One  is  that 
kind  of  which  we  are  instantly  conscious  and 
which  fills  us  with  a  frenzy  of  embarrassment  and 
regret.  The  other  (and  by  far  the  more  danger- 
ous) kind,  is  that  which  we  never  know  we  have 
committed  until,  long  afterward,  we  are  confronted 
by  its  results,  too  late  to  explain,  too  late  to  remedy, 
too  late  to  atone. 

Of  this  latter  sort  of  blunder,  Nora  Prentiss  had 
just  been  guilty. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

AFTER  the  first  horrible  throes  and  struggles, 
after  the  initial  success,  Nora  slid  into  society  on 
greased  wheels.  How  easy  a  thing  looks  after  it 
is  done! 

She  and  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  had  numerous  confer- 
ences in  the  home  of  the  latter,  on  the  subject  of 
the  party  that  Nora  was  to  give  to  the  women  of 
the  Friday  Club.  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  actually 
going  to  grace  it  in  person ! 

Nora  spared  no  expense  and  left  no  stone  un- 
turned. The  affair  came  off  and  it  was  a  brilliant, 
dazzling,  dizzy  success.  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  sat  on 
a  sort  of  throne  especially  prepared  for  her,  at 
one  end  of  the  room,  and  massed  with  American 
Beauty  roses.  She  was  constantly  calling  Nora 
to  her  side,  complimenting  her,  and.  conferring 
with  her.  Nora,  herself,  was  beautifully  dressed 
and  radiantly  happy.  Her  clothes  and  jewels 
did  far  more  to  ingratiate  her  with  her  pensioners 
than  would  all  the  stories  she  could  ever  have  told 
them.  Robert  Prentiss  was  present  and  made  an 
immediate  favourable  impression  on  the  great  lady 
for  whom  this  party  was  really  given.  Food, 

227 


228  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

music,  entertainment,  all  were  perfection  and  even 
the  audience  forgot,  almost,  to  be  embarrassed. 

Nora's  husband  was  a  little  puzzled  at  this  new 
phase  of  his  wife's.  His  life  was  full  of  big  busi- 
ness interests  and  he  had  yet  to  meet  the  man  to 
whom  he  was  forced  to  cringe,  or  the  man  who 
was  not  glad  to  make  his  acquaintance.  He  read 
no  fashionable  journals,  was  ignorant  of  the  dis- 
tinction between  social  sheep  and  goats,  and  had 
but  a  dim  idea  of  the  society  game.  But  he  could 
not  fail  to  see  that,  whatever  it  was  that  Nora 
had  been  attempting,  she  had  certainly  "pulled 
it  off." 

A  couple  of  days  after  the  affair,  Nora  was 
called  to  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  to  make  a  fourth  at 
Bridge;  two  New  York  women  had  motored  out 
to  luncheon  and  Miss  Benton  was  in  bed  with  a 
sick  headache.  Nora  sat  at  home  more  than 
usual,  during  these  days,  awaiting  possible 
summons. 

Then  came  the  great  day  of  her  life.  Return- 
ing from  New  York  late  one  afternoon,  she  found 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  cards — five  in  all.  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner's  household  consisted  of  herself  and 
two  unmarried  sons.  These  men  appeared  at 
Beech  wold  when  it  suited  them,  but  they  lived 
much  at  clubs  and  in  the  houses  of  friends.  The 
only  Van  Twiner  daughter  was  married  and  living 
in  France. 

The  card  of  "Mrs.  Marcus  Van  Twiner"  had 
been  left  on  Nora.  It  was  flanked  by  two  cards 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  229 

of  each  son,  one  for  Nora  and  one  for  Bob.  The 
butler  said  that  the  lady  had  called  in  person  and 
had  regretted  missing  Mrs.  Prentiss. 

And  the  next  day,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  requested 
(by  engraved  and  crested  card)  the  pleasure  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  Prentiss's  company  at 
dinner. 

The  cup  of  Nora's  happiness  was  full.  In  all  her 
life  she  never  passed  the  delight  of  that  moment. 
Later  honours  found  her  more  jaded,  more  sated, 
more  certain  of  herself.  This  first  one  was  her 
high-water  mark. 

There  is  probably,  in  most  human  lives,  one 
such  supreme  high-water  mark.  It  may  take  the 
form  of  love  (sexual,  maternal,  filial,  or  what  not), 
of  satisfied  ambition  or  revenge,  of  religious  fer- 
vour, according  to  the  mind  and  character  of  the 
subject.  But  in  all  cases,  it  stands  alone.  It  may 
be  imitated,  approximately  reproduced;  but  it  can 
never  be  absolutely  duplicated.  Nora's  moment 
was  that  of  satisfied  ambition. 

The  dinner  invitation  was,  of  course,  accepted. 
Robert  Prentiss  was  warned  to  let  nothing — busi- 
ness, illness,  life,  or  death — efface  that  important 
date  from  his  mind,  or  to  call  him  away  when  it 
arrived. 

The  hours  dragged  to  Nora.  She  could  hardly 
fill  them.  Yet,  when  the  evening  came,  she 
began  to  wonder  if  she  were  really  ready  for 
it.  Had  she  neglected  anything?  Could  she 
possibly  have  done  anything  more, — primed  her- 


230  THe  Goad  to  Mecca 

self  with  witty  mots,  rehearsed  imaginary  clever 
conversations, — been  more  becomingly  coiffed  or 
gowned? 

As  she  entered  the  vast  drawing-room,  the  first 
person  she  saw  was  that  exquisite  Mrs.  Carr  whom 
she  had  first  noted,  a  year  previously,  at  the  Horse 
Show.  If  Mrs.  Carr  had  been  a  dream  of  beauty 
then,  she  was  ten  times  as  lovely  now.  Clad  in 
a  heavy,  dragging,  sheath-like  gown  of  dull-green 
and  silver,  she  made  a  picture  the  like  of  which 
Nora  had  never  imagined.  Her  own  charming 
costume  of  mauve  chiffon  and  orchids  seemed 
suddenly  ineffective  and  meek. 

Mrs.  Carr  was  as  fascinating  as  she  was  pic- 
turesque. She  had  a  lovely  voice  and  smile,  and 
the  most  attractive  manner  that  Nora  had  ever 
seen.  There  was  something  appealing  about  it, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  it  was  entirely  assured 
and  high-bred.  Nothing  but  generations  of  good 
blood  could  impart  such  a  manner. 

Mrs.  Carr  was  addressed  as  "  Sybil "  by  everyone. 
In  fact,  with  the  exception  of  the  Prentisses,  they 
seemed  all  to  be  a  circle  of  intimates.  Name  after 
name  fell  trippingly  from  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's 
tongue,  in  introduction — all  names  to  conjure  with, 
all  the  cognomens  of  the  mighty. 

One  of  the  Van  Twiner  sons, — the  elder, — was  at 
home  and  played  the  role  of  host.  As  in  a  dream, 
Nora  saw  him  approach  and  offer  her  his  arm. 
At  the  same  moment,  she  heard  Mrs.  Van  Twiner 
saying,  "May  I  ask  you  to  take  me  out,  Mr. 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  231 

Prentiss?  "  They,  then,  were  the  guests  of  honour. 
It  was  incredible! 

As  they  took  their  places,  Bayard  Van  Twiner 
said: 

"I  have  played  golf  with  your  husband  several 
times,  Mrs.  Prentiss." 

"  I  hope  you  beat  him, "  laughed  Nora.  "  Defeat 
is  what  he  needs;  he  doesn't  get  enough  of  it.  .  . 
I  don't  mean  in  golf.  .  . " 

"No.  In  life  at  large.  I  can  quite  imagine  it 
would  be  a  new  sensation  to  him.  In  the  game, 
we  were  nip-and-tuck.  Do  you  play?" 

"Not  well.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  disgust  you  by 
confessing  that  I'm  not  at  all  athletic." 

"Indeed  you  will  not.  I'm  tired  of  athletic 
women.  We  have  too  many  of  them.  Of  course, 
I  enjoy  a  nice  breezy,  horsey,  chap  of  a  girl  now 
and  then;  but  I  never  think  of  her  as  a  woman. 
A  woman  should  be  pretty,  and  soft,  and  alluring. 
She  shouldn't  spoil  her  arms  by  exercise  and  her 
complexion  by  too  much  life  in  the  open." 

"The  Oriental  idea?"  queried  Nora. 

"Yes.  And  the  right  one.  That  is  the  type  of 
woman  that  really  attracts  a  man.  A  man  should 
be  a  bit  of  a  Turk,  don't  you  think  so?  I  don't 
mean  in  the  sense  of  temper  and  cruelty,  of  course. 
But  he  should  come  in  to  find  soft  cushions  and  soft 
arms  awaiting  him.  He  gets  enough  of  the  rough- 
and-tumble,  outside." 

"Mrs.  Carr  is  a  beautiful  woman,"  observed 
Nora,  her  tongue  following  her  thoughts. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca 


"Stunning.  Simply  ripping.  And  she  has  had 
men  crazy  about  her  ever  since  she  was  sixteen. 
Her  only  form  of  out-of-door  exercise,  by  the  way, 
is  riding.  She  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  on  a 
horse  that  you  ever  saw.  Are  you  fond  of  horses, 
Mrs.  Prentiss?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  prefer  motors,"  she  confessed. 
"I'm  a  sad  shirker  when  it  comes  to  a  question 
of  physical  exercise. " 

"You  dance,  of  course?" 

"Oh,  of  course." 

"Have  you  seen  the  new  Russian  dancer?" 

"Oh  yes;  isn't  she  marvellous?"  And  so  their 
talk  rambled  on,  on  the  same  old  topics  of  which 
we  never  weary,  because  of  the  individual  view- 
point and  the  fact  that  what  we  say  never  matters 
half  as  much  as  the  person  to  whom  we  say  it. 

Apparently,  Bob  and  his  hostess  were  having  a 
wonderful  time.  With  them,  it  was  keen  brain 
matched  against  keen  brain.  Each  was  a  born 
leader.  They  were  mutually  entertained  and 
entertaining.  From  time  to  time,  Nora  would  see 
her  husband  throw  back  his  head  and  go  into  peals 
of  laughter  over  some  sally  of  his  witty  companion. 
He  was  a  very  rare  laugher  and  Nora  watched 
him  in  amazement. 

"How  wonderful  your  mother  is,"  she  observed 
to  her  host. 

"The  Mater?  She  certainly  is.  She's  about 
the  cleverest  woman  I've  ever  run  up  against. 
There's  the  ideal  woman  for  you — beauty  and 


The  Road  to  Mecca  233 

allure  in  youth,  brains,  and  wit,  and  charm,  in 
age.  Jove,  it's  a  rare  combination,  though. " 

"It's  an  almost  impossible  one,"  she  answered. 
And  she  put  his  remark  down,  in  her  memory,  as 
the  mental  pattern  on  which  she  would  mould 
herself.  It  did  not  strike  her  that  she  was  starting 
out  in  the  wrong  way  to  attain  it.  Tranquil  and 
attractive  age  is  not  the  product  of  a  few  hasty 
moments'  preparation. 

"  My  mother  has  taken  a  very  great  fancy  to  you, 
Mrs.  Prentiss, "  assured  her  host. 

"She  has  been  dear  to  me — simply  dear,"  cried 
Nora.  "  Of  course,  I  am  a  stranger  here  and  have 
no  circle  of  friends,  as  yet " 

"You'll  be  in  no  lack  of  a  circle  when  once 
the  Mater  has  taken  you  in  hand.  The  trouble 
you'll  have,  will  be  to  find  enough  hours  in 
the  day.  I  hear  you  play  a  remarkable  game  of 
Bridge." 

"  Only  so-so, "  she  told  him.  "  I  love  it,  though. 
You  play  of  course?" 

"  Oh  yes.  I  shan't  have  the  pleasure  of  a  game 
with  you  this  evening,  though.  I  shall  hope  for 
that  later.  Tonight,  Mr.  Prentiss  and  I  are  to 
have  a  chat.  He  doesn't  play  I  hear?" 

"No.  I  have  never  been  able  to  persuade  him. 
He  wants  relaxation  in  the  evenings. " 

"  Of  course  he  does.  A  man's  brain  is  tired,  by 
night.  I  see  my  mother  is  trying  to  catch  your 
eye,  Mrs.  Prentiss." 

In  the  drawing-room,  three  Bridge  tables  were 


234  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

set  and  stakes  were  being  discussed.  Mrs.  Carr 
approached  Nora. 

"Mrs.  Van  Twiner  won't  let  me  play  with  you, 
Mrs.  Prentiss.  She  wants  you  for  herself.  But 
she  tells  me  you  have  such  a  wonderful  heart  and 
are  so  generous  that  I  wondered  if  I  couldn't 
interest  you  in  one  of  my  pet  fads — a  yearly 
Christmas  tree  for  the  East  Side  tots?  " 

"Oh,  I  should  love  to  help,"  Nora  cried  warmly. 
"I  am  devoted  to  children,  and  I  want  my  own  to 
grow  up  with  the  idea  of  helping  others.  How 
shall  I  send  you  a  cheque,  Mrs.  Carr?  " 

"That's  awfully  sweet  of  you.  A  cheque  drawn 
to  Sybil  Van  Vechten  Carr  will  be  all  right,  or 
simply  to  bearer.  And  I  am  still  out  in  the  country 
at  Ransend,  Long  Island.  I  shall  be  more  grateful 
than  I  can  tell  you.  And  I  hope  you  will  come  with 
me  on  Christmas  Eve  to  see  the  party." 

Nora  was  drawn  off  to  her  game.  Although  she 
played  against  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  that  lady  did  not 
win  invariably,  tonight.  Nora's  partner  was  a 
very  astute  man  with  a  tremendous  international 
reputation  for  brains.  She  didn't  dare  to  try 
to  fool  him.  Moreover,  she  wanted  to  impress 
him,  and  she  was  far  too  clever  to  work  the  same 
trick  twice.  She  contented  herself  with  an  adroit 
flattery  of  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  every  play,  which 
left  that  lady  with  a  tickled  vanity  in  spite  of  her 
lightened  purse.  Nora's  partner  was  unusually 
appreciative  of  her  game. 

"You  play  a  man's  game,  Mrs.  Prentiss,"  he 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  235 

declared.  "I  trust  we  may  often  be  partners. 
What  is  the  limit  of  your  stake?" 

"I  have  no  limit,"  she  laughed,  and  he  seemed 
more  pleased  than  ever. 

The  next  day,  Airs.  Van  Twiner  telephoned  to 
Mrs.  Parsons,  her  life-long  friend,  in  order  to  tell 
her  that  Alexander  Beekman  thought  that  Mrs. 
Robert  Prentiss  played  the  best  game  of  Bridge 
that  he  had  ever  seen  in  a  woman. 

"I  told  you  so,  Louise, "  she  chuckled. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

NORA  spent  much  valuable  grey  matter  on  the 
proper  size  of  the  cheque  that  she  should  send  to 
Mrs.  Carr.  It  must  be  big  enough  to  stand  out 
from  the  crowd,  yet  not  big  enough  to  make  its 
sender  appear  eager  and  nouveau  riche.  She  finally 
decided  on  the  modest  sum  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars.  (Incidentally,  Mrs.  Carr  nearly 
fainted  on  receiving  it.  It  was  exactly  ten  times 
what  she  had  expected.) 

During  the  ensuing  fortnight,  all  the  Maynards- 
town  women  whom  Nora  had  met  at  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner's  called  upon  her  and  two  of  them  enter- 
tained her.  That  meant  that  she  was  privileged  to 
entertain  them  in  return. 

Breathlessly,  she  realized  that  the  moment  for 
her  own  great  coup  was  at  hand.  She  wanted 
to  entertain  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  at  dinner,  before 
her  return  to  New  York  for  the  winter. 

The  great  lady  was  approached  on  the  subject 
and  was  very  gracious  indeed. 

"Whom  do  you  intend  to  invite?"  she  asked. 

Nora  explained  that  Mrs.  Morris  and  Mrs. 
Farnsworth,  having  been  her  hostesses,  were 
eligible.  They  and  their  husbands  would  make 

236 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  237 

four,  Nora  and  Bob  were  six;  would  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner's  son  come  with  her? 

"Oh  no,  I  wouldn't  count  on  him.  I  haven't 
seen  him  for  ten  days.  He  is  very  gay  and  very 
busy  just  now.  But,  of  course,  there  must  be  an 
odd  man  to  offset  me.  How  about  Mr.  Wilde  of 
St.  Michael's?  He  is  a  widower,  and  a  very 
entertaining  man.  Then  he  and  your  husband 
could  sit  out  together  while  we  play  Bridge. " 

Nora  thought  that  would  be  delightful.  But  it 
would  leave  but  six  for  Bridge.  A  dinner  of  eight, 
with  two  of  the  guests  non-players,  would  make  the 
card-tables  uneven. 

"And,  of  course,  I  cannot  ask  any  one  who  has 
not  entertained  me.  And  you  wouldn't  want  to 
know  any  of  the  other  Maynardstown  people 
whom  I  met  last  winter." 

"Oh  no,  no,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Van  Twiner 
hastily.  "No,  that  won't  be  necessary.  I  have 
an  idea.  I'll  ask  the  Carrs  over  to  spend  the  week- 
end with  me  and  I'll  bring  them  to  your  dinner. 
Mrs.  Carr  is  going  to  call  on  you  the  moment  she 
gets  back  to  town.  Of  course,  she  is  too  far  away 
now.  But  she  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  you. 
Now  that's  all  settled.  I  know  they'll  come; 
there's  plenty  of  time  to  catch  them  disengaged. 
Who  will  you  give  me  for  Bridge? 

"Whom  do  you  want?"  asked  Nora. 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  calmly  proceeded  to  pick  out 
the  best  players  on  the  list.  "Now  send  out  your 
invitations  at  once,"  she  counselled.  "It  would 


238  The  Road  to  Mecca 

be  a  nuisance  if  any  one  couldn't  come,  so  take  no 
risks.  I  shall  let  it  be  known  that  I  shall  be 
there." 

That  was  evidently  all  that  was  necessary,  for 
every  invitation  was  accepted  "with  pleasure." 
When  Mr.  Wilde,  of  St.  Michael's  received  his, 
this  was  his  mental  summing  up: 

"Mrs.  Robert  Prentiss!  Ah  yes,  yes.  That 
devoted  young  mother!  I  shall  go,  I  think.  I 
hear  that  they  live  very  well  and  that  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner  has  quite  taken  Mrs.  Prentiss  up.  A 
charming  young  woman!  A  devoted  mother! 
Maternal  devotion  should  be  encouraged  and 
rewarded!" 

The  third  day  before  Nora's  dinner  found  her  in 
a  wild  flurry.  Florists,  caterers,  musicians,  ser- 
vants, all  seemed  in  league  to  drive  her  crazy. 
A  gown  that  was  specially  ordered  for  the  occasion 
came  home  with  an  error  in  the  draping,  and  she 
couldn't  wear  anything  else,  of  course;  this  gown 
was  specially  gorgeous  and  was  what  she  was 
counting  upon.  She  must  go  back  to  the  modiste's 
with  it,  at  once,  and  see  it  made  right.  She  rang 
and  ordered  the  limousine;  Therese  dressed  her  and 
folded  the  new  frock  into  its  perfumed  wrappings. 
The  car  was  announced  and,  as  Nora  left  the  house 
to  enter  it,  the  butler  presented  four  or  five  letters 
on  a  silver  tray.  With  her  heart  in  her  mouth,  in 
fear  of  possible  social  catastrophes,  Nora  ran  over 
the  envelopes.  One,  addressed  in  her  mother's 
trembling  hand,  she  handed  back  to  the  man  and 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  239 

ordered  him  to  have  it  put  on  the  desk  in  her 
boudoir.  Mrs.  Brewster's  letters  were  always 
hard  to  decipher,  never  urgent,  and  never  interest- 
ing. She  wrote  to  "Ellie"  three  or  four  times  a 
year,  but  her  letters  were  merely  condensed  records 
of  village  news  that  held  no  possible  interest  for 
the  woman  who  had  been  so  happy  to  get  away 
from  it  all.  "Walter's  Mary"  had  added  to  her 
already  great  popularity  by  presenting  her  hus- 
band with  a  son  and  heir — the  first  Brewster  boy 
of  his  generation.  The  baby  had  been  christened 
Ephraim  after  his  grandfather  and  his  dead  uncle, 
but  his  familiar  appellation  was  "Ee-phy. "  He 
was  the  pride  of  the  household  and  had  cut  his  first 
tooth.  Walter's  oldest  little  girl  had  had  the 
measles  but,  fortunately,  the  baby  had  not  caught 
them.  Elmer  Pardee  and  "Poppa"  had  been 
serving  on  jury  duty  and  Poppa  had  caught  cold 
in  a  chilly  court-room,  and  had  been  "right  poorly  " 
ever  since.  Mrs.  Brewster's  faithful  maid  was 
about  to  be  married  and  her  despairing  mis- 
tress did  not  know  where  she  should  find  an- 
other like  her.  Girls  were  getting  so  lazy  and 
so  flighty. 

All  of  these  items  Nora  had  gleaned  from  former 
maternal  missives.  Mrs.  Brewster  was  a  strongly 
religious  woman  and  one  of  her  favourite  parables 
was  that  of  the  lost  sheep.  Turning  her  face  away 
from  the  comforting  "  ninety-and-nine  that  safely 
lay  in  the  shelter  of  the  fold,"  she  made  periodic 
journeys  into  the  wilderness,  seeking  the  stray 


240  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

member  of  the  flock.  Thus  was  her  conscience 
satisfied  and  her  heart  somewhat  comforted. 

Her  letters  always  awoke  all  the  old  animosity 
in  Nora.  They  turned  her  hard  and  cold,  and 
contemptuous.  She  invariably  answered  them, 
but  only  after  long  periods  and  with  considerable 
effort.  She  hated  to  be  reminded  of  that  other  life, 
from  which  she  had  extricated  herself  by  dint  of 
such  persistent  effort. 

Today,  she  was  in  no  mood  for  Allenbury  gossip. 
She  felt  that  she  should  scream  if  forced  to  read  it. 
So  she  sent  Mrs.  Brewster's  letter  back  to  her 
room  and  took  the  others  with  her  into  the  limou- 
sine, to  read  during  the  trip  to  New  York. 

Fortunately,  they  were  not  upsetting.  A  couple 
of  invitations,  the  announcement  of  a  dancing- 
class  that  was  being  arranged  for  the  children  of 
the  elite,  a  request  for  a  cheque  to  some  charity, 
and  a  note  asking  for  the  references  of  a  chamber- 
maid who  had  been  dismissed  from  Nora's  service 
a  short  time  previously. 

The  gown  was  easily  arranged  and  was  delight- 
fully becoming.  Nora  lunched  at  a  Fifth  Avenue 
restaurant  and  had  cordial  bows  and  greetings 
from  a  number  of  desirables.  Altogether,  she 
returned  home  in  a  very  satisfied  frame  of  mind; 
she  had  just  time  to  rest  and  dress  for  a  "small 
dinner  followed  by  Bridge." 

The  following  morning,  she  awoke  to  the  pleas- 
ing consciousness  that  all  was  well  with  her.  As 
her  senses  gradually  returned,  she  realized  that  there 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  241 

were  but  two  days  before  her  important  dinner- 
party and  that,  apparently,  nothing  could  now 
happen  to  overthrow  her  arrangements. 

She  rose  later  than  usual;  she  must  look  her 
freshest  on  Friday.  She  had  bathed,  and  break- 
fasted, and  installed  herself  in  a  long  chair  and  a 
becoming  peignoir,  ready  to  be  manicured,  when 
Therese  tapped.  Mrs.  Little  was  below  and  in- 
sisted on  seeing  Madame. 

"She  is  following,  Madame,  she  would  not  be 
denied."  And,  at  the  words,  the  doorway 
suddenly  framed  Edith's  figure.  There  was  no 
escape.  Nora  forced  a  smile. 

"Good-morning,  Edith,"  she  greeted.  "I 
haven't  seen  you  in  an  age." 

"No,"  replied  Edith,  shortly.  "You've  taken 
care  of  that." 

She  evidently  intended  to  waste  no  time  in  fool- 
ish preliminaries.  Realizing  this,  Nora  ceased 
trying  to  dodge  the  inevitable.  She  smoothed 
the  smile  from  her  lips  and  simply  sat  and  waited. 

"You've  been  growing  very  grand  in  the  mean- 
time, haven't  you?"  began  Edith  with  a  sneer. 

"I've  been  awfully  busy,"  replied  Nora  coldly. 
"  I  am  interested  in  a  number  of  charities  and  am 
trying  to  do  something  serious  with  my  life." 

"Don't  make  me  sick,"  interrupted  her  guest, 
coarsely.  "I  know  all  about  your  charities,  and 
just  what  they  mean,  too.  Nora  Prentiss,  you 
are  the  biggest  snob,  the  most  brazen  pusher, 
that  I  ever  saw.  I  never  imagined  such  cheek!" 

16 


242  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Abuse  is  not  criticism,  Edith,"  answered 
Nora  icily.  "You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that 
you'd  give  your  head  to  be  in  my  shoes  today. 
The  only  trouble  with  you  is  that  I  have  passed 
you." 

"Indeed  you  haven't,"  cried  Edith  angrily. 
"Don't  you  fool  yourself.  Where  you  go,  I  am 
going.  I'm  coming  to  this  precious  dinner  of 
yours,  Friday  night." 

"You  talk  like  an  idiot,  Edith — "  began  Nora. 
But  Edith  interrupted  her. 

"I  do,  do  I?  Perhaps  not  so  much  of  an  idiot 
as  you  think,  Nora  Prentiss.  I've  got  a  few  cards 
up  my  sleeve,  remember.  Don't  think  you  can 
abuse  my  good-nature  forever.  I  won't  threaten 
you  yet,  though.  I'll  simply  ask  you  quietly 
whether  you  will  invite  me  to  dinner  on  Friday 
night,  or  not.  Will  you?" 

"Certainly  not.  I  can't.  My  arrangements 
are  all  made.  It  is  nothing  but  the  smallest  kind 
of  a  party,  anyhow." 

"The  smallest  kind  of  a  party  which  you've 
nearly  killed  yourself  to  give.  You'd  have  sold 
your  soul — if  you  have  one — rather  than  not  give 
this  dinner.  And  you  know  it.  As  for  your 
arrangements,  you  can  easily  stretch  them  to 
include  two  more  guests!" 

"I  can't  doit,  Edith." 

"Oh,  I  know  who  you  are  in  fear  of.  Your 
new  friend,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner." 

"Very  well.     Since  you  please  to  drag  her  name 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  243 

into  the  discussion,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  plainly 
that  she  chose  the  guests  for  this  party. " 

"  Oh,  she  did,  did  she?  Well,  now,  suppose  you, 
as  hostess,  choose  two  more,  on  your  own  account  ? ' ' 

Suddenly  Nora  took  a  resolve. 

"Edith, "  she  said,  "you  will  realize  the  impossi- 
bility of  my  granting  your  request  when  I  tell  you 
that  Airs.  Van  Twiner  has  definitely  declined  to 
meet  you. " 

Edith  began  to  tremble  violently.  "Perhaps," 
she  cried,  "perhaps  she  will  be  as  unwilling  to 
know  you,  when  she  hears  a  few  things  that  I  can 
tell  her. " 

"How  can  you  tell  her  anything  when  you  don't 
even  know  her,  and  never  will?"  taunted  Nora 
unwisely. 

Edith  looked  exultant. 

"The  trouble  with  you,  Nora  Prentiss, "  she 
cried,  "is  this.  You  forget  to  reckon  with  the 
way  things  spread  by  report.  Any  one  can  start  a 
report.  What  do  you  suppose  first  put  me  on  the 
track  of  your  deceitful,  snobbish,  tricky,  plans? 
The  lie  you  told  me  about  being  home  with  your 
children  that  day  when  you  first  lunched  at  the 
Van  Twiner's.  Did  I  have  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner,  herself,  to  find  out  about  that?  You 
bet  I  didn't. " 

(As  a  matter  of  fact,  Nora's  chauffeur  was  in  love 
with  Edith's  maid,  Marie.  Marie's  mistress  had 
had  no  trouble  whatever  in  discovering  where 
Nora's  chauffeur  had  driven  his  mistress  on  the 


244  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

memorable  day  in  question, — as  well  as  what  hour 
he  took  her  there  and  what  hour  he  returned  for 
her.) 

Edith  continued : 

"  Up  to  that  day,  I  never  thought  you  were  a  liar. 
You'd  have  been  much  cleverer  if  you  had  admitted 
you  were  lunching  out  and  said  you  were  in  New 
York.  I  knew  you  were  never  in  the  house  when  I 
telephoned.  And  the  minute  you  lied  to  me,  I 
began  to  smell  a  rat  and  to  make  inquiries. " 

"All  this  discussion  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
main  question,  Edith.  Whose  fault  is  it,  do  you 
suppose,  that  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  won't  meet  you? 
No  one's  but  your  own.  Do  you  remember  that 
night  of  the  Country  Club  Ball,  and  the  way  you 
behaved?  Do  you  remember  how  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner  threatened  to  resign  unless  you  did? 
Do  you  remem " 

Edith  had  lost  the  last  vestige  of  her  self-control. 

"Hold  your  impudent  tongue,"  she  shrieked. 
"Do  you  think  your  grand  friends  will  be  much 
more  anxious  to  know  you,  when  they  hear  that 
your  old  father  keeps  a  livery-stable,  and  that 
your  brother  is  a  common  farmer,  with  a  wife  who 
does  her  own  work?  How  do  you  think  that  will 
strike  them?" 

It  had  come.  The  sword  had  fallen.  Always, 
Nora  had  been  conscious  that  it  was  hanging 
suspended  above  her;  always  she  had  known  that 
its  fall  would  annihilate  her.  But  she  had  com- 
forted herself  with  the  thought  of  Edith's  easy 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  245 

good-nature  and  her  own  ability  to  keep  her 
present  doings  a  secret. 

In  Edith's  place,  she  well  knew  that  she  would 
long  ago  have  cut  the  thread  and  released  the 
sword.  But  she  had  hoped  that  Edith  wouldn't. 
Edith's  best  point  was  her  generosity.  Could  she 
do  such  a  dastardly  thing? 

Nora  pulled  herself   together  with  an  effort. 

"Don't  think  you  can  harm  me  in  that  way, 
Edith,"  she  said  with  excessive  calm.  "No  one 
in  the  Van  Twiner  set  would  take  your  word 
against  mine.  My  father  doesn't  keep  a  stable, 
anyhow.  It  is  merely  one  of  his  investments. 
Plenty  of  men  own  stables  and  are  proud  of 
them. " 

Edith  laughed  shrilly. 

"Oh,  indeed?"  she  cried.  "So  that's  your 
game,  is  it?  A  fancy  stable !  A  gentleman's  toy! 
You're  very  clever,  my  lady,  but  not  quite  clever 
enough.  How  will  you  explain  your  brother,  and 
his  wife,  and  your  common  old  mother?" 

Suddenly  Nora  put  out  her  hand  and  touched 
the  bell. 

"Carry  Mrs.  Little's  coat  down-stairs,"  she 
commanded  the  servant  who  answered  her  sum- 
mons, ' '  and  see  that  her  car  is  ordered.  Good-bye, 
Mrs.  Little,"  and,  entering  the  adjoining  bed- 
room, she  closed  the  door  and  turned  the  key  in 
the  lock. 

There  stood  Edith,  alone  with  the  attendant 
maid. 


246  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

"You'll  be  sorry  for  this, "  she  screamed,  giving 
the  bedroom  door  a  vicious  kick.  "You'll  find 
it's  the  stupidest  blunder  you  ever  made.  Turned 
out  of  your  house,  am  I?  Shown  to  the  door  by 
a  damned  servant?  I,  whose  clothes  you  have 
worn,  whose  bread  you  have  eaten,  whose  roof 
has  sheltered  you  when  you 'hadn't  a  friend  to 
your  name.  Take  care,  Nora  Prentiss,  you'll  rue 
this  day  to  the  end  of  your  life. " 

Stopping,  she  listened,  panting.  Not  a  sound 
crept  through  the  locked  door.  Realizing  the 
futility  of  further  violence,  Edith  finally  followed 
the  servant  down-stairs  and  entered  her  waiting 
car. 

Nora  paced  her  rooms  like  a  caged  beast, 
frightened,  furious,  fuming. 

"The  cat,"  she  hissed,  behind  locked  teeth. 
"The  vile  little  dirty  cat!  As  if  she  could  do  her- 
self any  good  by  throwing  filth  on  me!  How 
can  she  expect  to  behave  as  she  chooses  to  behave, 
and  still  have  decent  people  willing  to  know  her? 
It  is  all  her  own  fault.  Drinking,  smoking,  de- 
bauches, lovers,  indecent  clothes — what  does  she 
expect?  Edith  Little  has  dug  her  grave  with  her 
own  hands.  She  has  come  to  her  ruin  through  self- 
indulgence  and  lack  of  character"  (Nora  was 
always  very  apt  at  fitting  the  proper  names  to  the 
faults  of  others),  "and  now  she  wants  to  drag  me 
into  the  mire  with  her.  The  treacherous  little 
cat!" 

As  she  passed  and  repassed  her  writing-table, 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  247 

her  mother's  letter  caught  her  eye.  It  had  lain 
there  since  yesterday.  She  might  as  well  read  it 
and  get  done  with  it.  Nothing  could  upset  her 
more  than  she  was  already  upset. 

She  tore  it  open  with  fingers  that  trembled  so 
violently  that  she  could  hardly  command  them. . 
At  first  the  poorly-written  words  danced  before 
her  blurred  vision.     Then,   gradually,  she  made 
them  out. 

Monday. 
DEAR  DAUGHTER, 

Your  poppa  passed  away  this  morning.  It  was 
very  sudden.  We  have  set  the  funeral  for  Thurs- 
day morning  at  eleven  o'clock,  so  as  you  can  get 
here. 

MOTHER. 

It  was  then  quarter  of  one  on  Wednesday. 
Nora's  dinner  was  to  be  on  Friday  evening.  She 
sat  down  and  allowed  herself  to  burst  into  a  flood 
of  tears. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

NORA  PRENTISS  honestly  believed  herself  to  be 
the  most  unlucky  woman  in  the  world. 

Never  had  she  approached  a  triumph  that 
catastrophe  had  not  overtaken  her  (so  she  told 
herself).  Look  at  the  way  Edith  had  killed  all  her 
social  chances  at  that  Easter  Ball!  Look  at  the 
way  she  was  called  home  from  Narragansett,  just 
as  she  had  succeeded  in  making  a  favourable 
impression  on  one  of  the  most  important  men  in  the 
world!  And  look,  ah  look,  at  her  present  stress! 

She  must  bestir  herself,  and  see  what  she  could 
do.  If  worse  came  to  worst,  she  could  telegraph  to 
Allenbury  that  she  was  desperately  ill  and  unable 
to  leave  her  bed.  But  then,  there  would  be  Bob 
to  reckon  with.  He  would  stand  for  nothing  of 
that  sort.  He  was  so  stupid  and  so  set,  in  regard 
to  certain  things. 

Suppose  she  held  back  the  news  and  let  him 
think,  later,  that  the  letter  had  not  reached  her  in 
time?  Or  suppose  she  pretended  to  be  ill  for  the 
day?  No,  that  would  not  do.  Bob  still  took  the 
little  Allenbury  paper,  and  read  it,  too,  in  spite  of 
his  busy  life.  He  still  held  much  property  in  the 
vicinity  of  Allenbury,  and  he  was  horribly  faithful 

248 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  249 

to  old  associations,  anyhow.  The  village  paper 
would  largely  feature  the  funeral  of  one  of  the 
principal  inhabitants,  and  would  be  sure  to  say, 
"Severe  illness  prevented  the  attendance  of  Mr. 
Brewster's  only  daughter,  Mrs.  R.  Wesley  Pren- 
tiss. "  And  there  would  certainly  be  inconvenient 
later  inquiries  if  she  pretended  not  to  have  received 
her  mother's  letter  till  Saturday.  It  had  been 
written  on  Monday. 

No,  it  would  never  do.  She  must  go.  She 
could  see  that. 

By  telephone,  she  inquired  concerning  train- 
service.  She  found  that  she  could  take  a  sleeper 
from  New  York  to  the  big  city  nearest  Allenbury, 
reaching  there  at  6  A.M.  And  she  could  connect 
exactly  with  a  train  that  arrived  in  the  village 
at  ten  in  the  morning,  just  in  time  for  the  funeral. 

Returning,  she  could  leave  Allenbury  on  the 
evening  of  the  same  day,  at  seven  o'clock,  take 
a  sleeper  back  to  New  York,  reach  her  own  home  by 
ten  in  the  morning,  sleep  all  day,  and  be  ready  for 
her  party.  It  was  a  horrible  ordeal ;  she  cursed 
the  necessity ;  but  it  must  be  done. 

By  this  time,  it  was  after  two  o'clock  (she  had 
had  a  luncheon-tray  sent  up).  She  still  had  to 
break  the  news  to  Bob. 

The  telephone  disclosed  the  fact  that  he  had  not 
come  in  from  luncheon.  Leaving  word  that  he  was 
to  call  her  immediately  upon  his  return,  she  turned 
to  her  other  business.  Therese  was  summoned 
and  instructed.  She  was  not  to  accompany  her 


250  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

mistress.  For  nothing  in  the  world  would  Nora 
have  permitted  her  elegant  maid  to  see  that  home. 
Nora's  bag  was  packed,  some  wonderful  flowers 
were  ordered  from  the  florist  (Nora  was  to  carry 
them  herself),  and  at  three  o'clock  came  the  tinkle 
of  the  telephone.  Nora's  heart  failed  her  at  the 
task  she  was  facing. 

She  told  Bob  the  news,  laying  great  stress  on  her 
sorrow  and  the  effort  she  was  making  to  get  to 
Allenbury  in  time;  (she  did  not,  however,  mention 
the  fact  that  her  mother's  letter  had  lain  on  her 
desk,  unopened,  for  more  than  twenty-four  hours). 

As  she  expected,  her  husband  was  pleased  with 
her  conduct.  "I  ought  to  go  with  you,"  he  kept 
saying,  "but  there  is  a  very  important  meeting 
on,  for  tomorrow  morning.  I  fixed  the  time, 
myself.  And  some  coal-men  have  travelled  three 
days  to  get  here. " 

"  It  isn't  in  the  least  necessary,"  she  assured  him; 
"as  long  as  I  am  there,  it  will  be  all  right.  They 
will  understand." 

"Yes.  But  it  is  the  lack  of  respect.  I  don't 
like  to  put  business  before  decency.  I  suppose 
you  will  stay  several  days?" 

(Now  it  was  coming !) 

"  No, "  she  answered,  "  I  can't.  I  have  promised 
to  be  at  home  on  Friday  night.  Some  friends 
are  coming. " 

"Friends?"  Then,  as  it  dawned  upon  him, 
"not  that  dinner-party,  Nora?  Surely  you  will 
call  that  off,  now?" 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  251 

' '  I  certainly  will  not, ' '  she  replied.  ' '  My  friends 
are  making  as  much  of  an  effort  to  come  to  me  as 
your  business  associates  are  making  to  come  to  you. 
I,  myself,  set  my  time  just  as  you  set  yours." 
(No  one  was  quicker  than  Nora  to  turn  a  quip 
against  its  originator.)  "  I  must  be  here. " 

"Nora,  it  isn't  decent.  Your  friends  would 
understand. " 

"They  would  not,"  she  cried.  "Not  one  of 
them  knew  my  father.  I  don't  even  want  his 
death  mentioned.  I  won't  have  my  party  spoiled. 
This  is  my  affair.  I  don't  interfere  with  yours,  but 
I  insist  upon  running  my  own.  You  know  nothing 
of  such  things.  I  am' doing  all  that  is  necessary. 
I  am  making  superhuman  efforts  and  taking  a 
horrible  journey,  just  to  show  the  proper  respect. 
Don't  argue  any  more.  You  can't  persuade  me, 
and  I've  had  about  all  I  can  stand  in  one  day." 

"Very  well,"  he  answered  coldly.  "As  you 
please.  I  hope  your  pleasure  in  your  dinner  will 
compensate  you  for  your  lack  of  respect " 

"I'll  take  care  of  that, "  she  told  him.  "You'll 
be  on  hand  on  Friday  night,  of  course?" 

"I  suppose  so,"  he  answered  without  enthu- 
siasm. 

' '  You  must, "  she  replied  quickly.  ' '  Remember, 
Bob,  I  will  never  forgive  you, — never, — if  you  allow 
anything  whatever  to  keep  you  from  that  dinner. " 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Ax  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  a  cold  blustery 
day  in  late  autumn,  a  train  stopped  at  the  Allen- 
bury  station  and  Nora  Prentiss  alighted. 

She  cast  a  rapid  glance  up  and  down  the  plat- 
form, expecting  to  see  her  brother  Walter.  He  was 
not  there,  but  an  old  neighbour,  Elmer  Pardee, 
was  waiting  to  meet  her.  Clad  in  his  badly  cut 
Sunday  clothes,  which  he  wore  awkwardly,  he 
greeted  Nora  with  the  proper  degree  of  solemnity. 

He  took  her  bag  and  assisted  her  down  the 
station  steps  and  across  all  gutters,  by  placing  a 
hand  under  her  elbow.  Had  the  truth  been  known 
he  was  not  a  little  embarrassed.  He  had  been 
unprepared  for  such  a  mondaine,  such  a  vision  of 
fashion  and  loveliness. 

Nora  glanced  around  her  and  shivered.  How 
small  it  all  looked,  and  how  shabby.  And  the 
light  seemed  cruder  and  more  glaring  than  else- 
where. 

"Kind  of  cold,  ain't  it?"  said  her  escort,  noting 
her  shiver.  "We've  had  a  right  smart  spell  of 
weather  fer  this  time  of  year. " 

His  voice  sounded  odd.  All  through  that  day 
Nora  was  struck  by  the  pitch  of  the  voices  of 

252 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  253 

the  people  she  met.  She  remembered  how,  as  a 
child,  she  used  to  feel  embarrassed  at  her  own  voice 
when  they  read  in  chorus,  at  school.  It  was  so 
much  lower  in  the  scale  than  the  rest  of  the  voices 
that  it  sounded  to  her  own  ears  like  a  growl. 
By  no  effort  could  she  make  it  high  and  shrill  like 
those  around  her.  It  was  not  that  she  could  not 
talk  as  loud  as  others, — it  was  that  she  could  not 
talk  as  high.  The  natural  pitch  of  her  voice  was  at 
least  three  tones  lower  in  the  scale,  and  it  came 
from  the  chest,  instead  of  from  the  head  and  a 
strained  throat. 

All  that  day,  two  things  especially  struck  Nora 
Prentiss :  the  voices  she  heard  and  the  use  of  the 
letter  "r. "  It  seemed  to  be  considered  the  most 
important  letter  in  the  alphabet.  Every  time  it 
occurred,  whether  in  the  middle  of  a  word  or  at 
its  termination,  it  was  multiplied  by  three  and 
clamped  down  with  an  iron  clamp.  Nobody 
could  fail  to  hear  those  "r's."  No  one  could 
accuse  those  speakers  of  the  affectation  of  drop- 
ping them. 

It  was  but  a  short  walk  to  the  house.  "Your 
mother  said  you  was  to  walk  right  in, "  said  Mr. 
Pardee.  "You'll  find  the  door  on  the  latch." 

Handing  over  her  bag,  he  departed,  after  a 
solemn  handshake.  "You'll  feel  kind  of  queer 
when  you  see  Ellie  Brewster, "  he  told  his  waiting 
wife.  "She's  changed  considerable." 

"She  all  dressed  up?"  inquired  Mrs.  Pardee. 

"Not   dressed  up,    I   shouldn't  egzacly  say," 


254  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

answered   her   puzzled   husband.     "She's   all   in 
black- 

" Black!  Do  tell!"  interrupted  his  wife.  In 
Allenbury,  mourning  was  not  assumed,  and  black 
was  always  reserved  for  the  aged. 

"Yes.  But  she  don't  look  solemn  in  it," 
assured  Mr.  Pardee.  "Or  ruther,  she  does  look 
solemn,  kind  of,  but  she  looks  awful  stylish  too. 
Kind  of  classy.  You  wait  till  you  see  her.  / 
don't  know. " 

'  Avoiding  the  "best  room"  by  instinct  (she  never 
had  seen  a  funeral,  yet  she  knew  that  her  father 
would  be  lying  there) ,  Nora  Prentiss  went  straight 
up  to  the  front  bedroom  and  knocked. 

"Come  in,"  called  her  mother's  voice.  Nora 
entered,  and  the  two  women  faced  each  other  for 
the  first  time  in  what  seemed  like  a  century. 

Mrs.  Brewster,  dressed  in  her  best,  was  seated 
in  a  big  wooden  "rocker,"  her  knotted  old  hands 
lying  in  unwonted  idleness,  in  her  lap.  They 
held  a  handkerchief.  She  looked  old  and  bent, 
and  worn,  and  sad.  It  was  easy  to  see  that 
the  staff  of  her  life  was,  in  verity,  gone. 

It  is  a  fortunate  thing  that  marital  unhappiness 
is  rare  in  rural  districts.  Husbands  and  wives 
live,  there,  almost  literally  in  each  other's  exclusive 
society.  It  must  be  life — or  death. 

"That  you  Ellie?"  queried  her  mother,  in  a 
toneless  voice.  "I'm  glad  you  come.  Wesley 
with  you?" 

Nora  went  over  and  kissed  the  wrinkled  cheek. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  255 

"No,"  she  replied,  "he  couldn't  possibly  come. 
He  asked  me  to  tell  you  how  sorry  he  was. " 

"Yes,  I'm  sorry,  too,  "  nodded  the  elder  woman 
quietly.  "Poppa  always  liked  Wesley.  You  seen 
Poppa?" 

Ellie  shook  her  head. 

"Better  go  right  down  before  the  folks  comes. 
I  wish  him  an'  you  could  of  kind  of  fixed  it  up 
before  this  come.  You'd  feel  better  with  yourself, 
now. " 

Nora  saw  that  it  would  never  do  not  to  go 
down-stairs  and  look  at  the  corpse. 

"I  brought  you  these,"  she  said,  opening  the 
box  of  flowers. 

"Oh,  ain't  they  pretty?  Real  pretty.  Better 
put  'em  somewheres  near  Mm.  He  was  real  fond 
of  posies. "  And  her  lips  trembled. 

With  the  sheaf  of  long-stemmed  blossoms  in  her 
arms,  Nora  descended  the  narrow  stairs  to  the  best 
room.  As  she  opened  the  door  she  paused.  Then, 
summoning  her  courage,  she  approached  the 
coffin. 

There  he  lay,  the  dead  man  who  had  virtually 
cursed  her  at  their  last  meeting.  The  stern  old 
face  was  set  now  in  the  peaceful  lines  of  eternal 
quiet;  then,  it  had  worked  convulsively  with  sup- 
pressed and  righteous  rage.  The  hands  which 
then  had  pointed  so  vindictively  at  her,  now  lay 
folded  at  rest. 

As  she  gazed,  Nora  Prentiss  knew  that  all  her 
life  she  had  detested  this  man.  She  never  could 


256  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

remember  the  minute  when  she  had  not  been 
repelled  by  him.  When  she,  a  fretful  lazy  child, 
had  shirked  her  given  tasks,  he,  the  champion  of 
his  overworked  spouse,  would  chide  her  sharply. 
He  had  never  had  any  patience  with  her  "notions " 
and  she,  in  her  turn,  was  always  irritated  by  his 
sternness,  and  his  lack  of  polish  and  of  physical 
attraction. 

Well,  it  was  over  now.  Over  forever,  as 
far  as  this  world  was  concerned.  He  was 
gone. 

Warned  by  the  hushed  voices  and  the  shuffling 
footsteps  of  approaching  funeral  guests,  Nora 
returned  to  her  mother's  room  and  sat  down 
by  the  elder  woman. 

"He  looks  real  natural,  don't  he?"  said  Mrs. 
Brewster. 

"Yes,"  answered  her  daughter.  "He  can't 
have  suffered  much. " 

"  No,  that's  one  mercy, "  agreed  the  mother  with 
a  weary  sigh. 

Presently  the  door  opened  to  admit  Walter 
Brewster  and  his  family.  The  baby,  only,  had 
been  left  at  home  with  a  woman  hired  for  the  day 
to  take  charge  of  him.  All  of  the  round-eyed  little 
girls  followed  their  parents. 

Walter  Brewster  shook  hands  with  his  sister. 
Nora  was  about  to  greet  Mary  in  the  same  manner, 
when  the  latter  gave  her  a  stiff  nod  and  creaked 
into  a  seat. 

Time,  which  had  brought  increased  slenderness 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  257 

to  Nora,  had  added  even  more  rapidly  to  Mary's 
embonpoint.  She  was  now  more  than  plump — 
she  was  fat.  Her  chin  ran  down  into  her  bust 
with  scarcely  a  dividing  line  and  her  hips  shook 
as  she  walked.  She  was  dressed  in  a  tight,  shiny, 
dark  blue  mohair  (her  "best"  dress),  with  a  stiff 
bow  at  her  throat.  She  looked,  almost  with  hatred, 
at  Nora  in  her  intricately  cut,  indescribable, 
inimitable,  gown,  and  her  beautiful  sables,  the 
value  of  which  Mary  never  even  dreamed,  but  the 
style  of  which  made  her  tingle  with  envy.  "I 
don't  believe  she's  so  very  happy,  or  well, "  said 
Mary  to  herself,  bitterly.  "She's  so  awful  thin. 
Looks  as  if  she  might  be  goin'  into  a  decline." 
But  Mary  knew,  in  her  heart  of  hearts,  that  she 
would  have  given  a  great  deal  to  be  as  "awful 
thin"  as  her  sister-in-law. 

The  intimate  friends  of  the  family  joined  the 
group  in  Mrs.  Brewster's  bedroom.  More  casual 
acquaintances  seated  themselves  downstairs.  Each 
one  who  entered  made  a  slow  circuit  of  the  coffin, 
pausing  solemnly  at  its  head.  Some  of  the  women 
pressed  their  handkerchiefs  to  their  eyes;  others 
reached  out  a  hand  and  stroked  the  dead  brow, 
or  arranged  a  lock  of  hair.  Each  one  who 
stood  by  that  coffin  was  conscious  of  being  the 
centre  of  attention  during  the  brief  moment 
before  being  replaced;  each  was  correspondingly 
anxious  to  behave  properly,  or  even  noticeably. 

They  had  lost  an  old  friend  and  a  true  one,  and 
they  regretted  the  loss.  Their  seriousness,  while 

17 


258  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

not  assumed,  was,  nevertheless,  self-conscious. 
And  Mrs.  Brewster,  alone,  of  all  the  people  in  that 
house,  suffered  real  grief. 

Presently,  the  minister  of  the  Methodist  Church 
began  to  speak.  With  the  exactness  of  a  bio- 
grapher, he  described  Ephraim  Brewster's  life  to  his 
Maker,  pointing  out  those  traits  and  acts  which 
he  thought  specially  worthy  of  commendation. 
The  long  address  was  followed  by  an  equally  long 
prayer,  and  then  came  the  music. 

The  soprano  of  the  Methodist  choir,  a  woman 
in  the  forties,  with  a  thin  voice  cracked  by  im- 
proper production,  sang  Sowing  the  Seed.  Its 
three  verses  she  sang  as  solos;  but  in  the  refrain, 
which  followed  each  verse,  she  was  assisted  by  the 
bass,  who  marked  the  time  in  short  reiterated 
syllables  while  she  carried  the  air  on  the  long 
notes : 

"Sown  in  the  darrkness, 

orr  sown  in  the  light, 
Sown  in  ourr  weakness, 

orr  sown  in  ourr  might; 
Gathurred  in  time,  orr  Eterrnity. 

Surre,  ah,  surre,  shall  the 

harrvest  be." 

During  the  singing,  Mrs.  Brewster  wept  softly 
for  the  first  time.  At  its  conclusion,  her  son 
tiptoed  over  to  her  in  his  creaking  boots  and 
whispered  something  in  her  ear.  There  was  a 


I 
THe  Road  to  Mecca  259 

short  consultation,  after  which  he  approached 
Nora. 

It  seemed  that  everyone  was  to  go  to  the  grave. 
The  Brews ter  livery-stable  boasted  a  hearse  and 
four  closed  funeral  carriages.  These,  which  held 
four  persons  each,  were  always  used  for  the  imme- 
diate family.  The  remainder  of  every  funeral 
procession  was  made  up  of  private  open  carriages, 
supplied  by  the  near-by  farmers.  Each  of  them 
was  driven  by  its  owner,  and  carried  three  addi- 
tional passengers. 

It  having  been  supposed  that  Nora's  husband 
would  come  with  her,  arrangements  had  been  made 
that  Mrs.  Brewster  senior,  Walter,  Mary,  and  their 
youngest  daughter,  should  occupy  the  first  car- 
riage ;  while  the  second  should  be  given  to  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Prentiss  and  the  two  older  Brewster  daugh- 
ters. Now,  these  arrangements  were  somewhat 
overthrown.  Would  it  be  agreeable  to  "Ellie"  to 
go  in  the  second  carriage  with  her  two  nieces  and 
Mary's  unmarried  sister,  or  should  Walter  be 
separated  from  his  wife? 

11  Oh  no, "  whispered  Nora.  "But,  Walter,  must 
I  go  to  the  grave?" 

He  stared  at  her.  "Why,  everyone  is  going," 
he  answered,  "even  the  children.  It  would  look 
queer,  kind  of,  if  you  wasn't  there." 

"Very  well,"  she  agreed,  "I  will  go.  Put  me 
in  the  carriage  with  Mary's  sister  and  the  two 
little  girls. " 

He  tiptoed  downstairs,  the  women  all  started 


260  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

to  put  on,  and  fasten,  their  coats,  and  presently 
the  undertaker,  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
began  to  read  from  the  written  list  that  had  been 
given  him. 

"  Mrs.  Brewster,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walter  Brewster, 
and  child,"  he  read,  and  the  little  procession  of 
four  filed  down  the  stairs,  Walter  Brewster 's  arm 
supporting  his  old  mother  and  Mary  leading 
her  daughter  by  the  hand.  The  men  around  the 
door  shuffled  solemnly  aside  to  permit  their 
passage.  These  men,  who  were  always  comfort- 
able and  often  picturesque  in  their  accustomed 
every-day  clothes,  all  looked  self-conscious  and 
clumsy  in  Sunday  garb. 

"Mrs.  Wesley  Prentiss,  Miss  Asenath  Pyle,  and 
two  Brewster  children,"  read  the  undertaker, 
and  every  woman  downstairs  craned  her  neck 
to  get  a  peep  at  Nora  as  she  passed. 

At  last,  the  long  procession  filed  away  to  the 
churchyard  and  the  second  service  began  by  the 
side  of  the  open  grave.  The  coffin  was  carefully 
lowered  in  its  waiting  depths  and  a  few  shovelfuls 
of  earth  were  flung  on  to  it.  As  the  hollow  thud 
came  to  her  ears,  Nora  shivered  as  though  she  had 
been  struck. 

In  spite  of  her  pew  at  St.  Michael's,  she  was  not 
a  religious  woman.  But  suddenly,  it  flashed  over 
her  that  this  was  the  one  and  only  thing  of  which 
any  of  us  can  be  sure;  that  some  day  she,  Nora 
Prentiss,  would  inevitably  be  lying,  still  and  cold, 
in  a  box  similar  to  that  box,  and  that  the  earth 


THe  Road  to   Mecca  261 

would  begin  to  descend  upon  her  mortal  body. 
And  what  about  the  soul  escaped  from  that  body? 
Would  it  be  ready  when  that  final  summons 
came? 

She  looked  around  on  the  homely  faces  and 
figures  which,  all  her  life,  she  had  so  despised. 
Were  they  not  all  better  prepared  than  she  for 
that  after-life?  Simple,  honest,  God-fearing  souls, 
were  they  not  more  fitted  to  occupy  the  highest 
seats?  And  she,  who  all  her  life  had  been  so  busy 
seeking  exalted  stations,  might  have  to  crouch  at 
their  feet, — if,  indeed,  she  gained  entrance  at  all. 

Entertaining  was  not  frequent  in  Allenbury; 
but  every  inhabitant  of  the  village  had  one  inevi- 
table luncheon-party  given  in  his,  or  her,  honour. 
It  was  the  funeral  repast. 

Everyone  returned  to  the  Brewster  house,  even 
those  who  lived  within  a  stone's  throw  of  it. 
There,  was  served  a  meal  that  had  been  two  days 
in  preparation.  Cold  meats  of  several  kinds, 
pickles,  jams,  cold  biscuits,  huge  cups  of  coffee, 
pies  of  various  descriptions,  doughnuts,  and 
cheese,  formed  the  bill  of  fare.  Everyone  was  fed, 
one  tableful  at  a  time.  Each  group,  when  satis- 
fied, would  rise  (brushing  away  crumbs  and 
making  free  use  of  toothpicks),  to  give  place  to 
the  next  relay.  Mary  and  a  dozen  other  women 
bustled  about  in  white  aprons,  serving  the  guests, 
carrying  dishes  to  and  from  the  kitchen,  making 
fresh  coffee,  and  speaking  in  subdued  voices  full 


262  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

of  importance.  Mrs.  Brewster  and  Nora,  alone, 
did  not  appear  below  stairs  until  the  last  guest  had 
departed.  The  failure  of  Nora  to  show  herself 
caused  keen  disappointment. 

"I'm  afraid  you'll  be  real  faint,"  observed  her 
mother,  wearily,  "with  your  long  journey  and  all. " 

Nora  shook  her  head.  "  I  ate  on  the  train, "  she 
replied.  "  I  am  not  at  all  hungry.  I'd  much  rather 
wait  until  you  go  down." 

By  half-past  three,  the  house  was  empty  of  all 
but  a  few  intimates,  and  Nora  and  her  mother  went 
down  and  ate  at  the  deserted  table. 

Nora  had  already  imparted  the  news  that  she 
must  leave  again  at  seven  o'clock,  "to  get  back 
to  the  children."  As  they  rose  from  the  table 
her  mother  looked  at  the  clock  and  found  that 
it  was  after  four. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  Ellie,  about  somethin, ' ' 
she  said. 

They  returned  together  to  the  bedroom,  whence 
they  had  just  come. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

THE  short  day  was  already  darkening  a  little. 
A  stove  had  been  set  up  in  the  room  during  Mr. 
Brewster's  short  illness,  and  its  glow  lightened  the 
gloom.  Clouds  were  scurrying  across  the  sky; 
it  was  beginning  to  look  like  a  threatening  snow- 
storm. From  time  to  time,  a  coal  from  the  stove 
dropped  into  the  ash-pan  with  a  soft  thud.  The 
tick  of  the  clock  was  plainly  audible.  Mrs. 
Brewster  sat  down  in  her  "rocker"  and  motioned 
her  daughter  to  a  chair  near  by. 

"Ellie, "  she  began,  after  a  long  pause,  "there's 
somethin'  Poppa  wanted  I  should  speak  to  you 
about.  It's  a  kind  of  hard  to  begin. " 

Another  pause.  "Yes,  Mother?"  answered 
Nora. 

"He  always  intended  to  leave  you  and  Walter 
jest  the  same,  after  I  was  gone,  too, "  continued 
Mrs.  Brewster.  "If  you'd  of  married  any  of  the 
young  fellers  'round  here,  and  lived  our  kind  of 
life,  he  would  of  left  you  jest  the  same. " 

"Oh,  Mother,"  interposed  Nora,  "that's  all 
right.  Don't  give  it  a  thought.  I  don't  want  a 
thing.  I  don't  need  it.  " 

"He's    left    you    somethin',"    observed    Mrs. 
263 


264  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Brewster,  "but  not  as  much  as  Walter.  One 
thing,  he  knew  you  didn't  need  it.  And  then — 
well,  it  wasn't  only  that  time  you  tried  him  so, 
Ellie.  It  was  somethin'  else.  An'  he  wanted  I 
should  tell  you.  He  made  me  promise  I  would. " 

Evidently,  Mr.  Brewster,  in  departing  this 
life,  had  entrusted  his  wife  with  a  difficult  task. 
Finally,  however,  she  began  to  speak  more  fluently. 

"You  know,  Ellie,  when  I  was  a  woman  of 
thirty-five,  my  three  little  sons  was  all  taken  off 
in  one  blow,  with  diphtheria.  All  my  life  I'd 
wanted  a  little  daughter  an'  never  had  one.  An' 
when  the  boys  died,  I  near  went  out  of  my  head. 
An'  Poppa,  he  thought  he'd  best  get  me  away  from 
old  scenes.  So  we  went  out  to  Illinois  an'  rented 
a  farm  about  twenty  miles  from  Chicago.  An', 
after  we'd  been  there  about  two  year,  Walter  was 
born. 

"At  first  he  was  a  sickly  baby.  I  guess  me 
worryin'  so  was  what  done  it.  An'  when  he  wasn't 
more  than  two  year  old,  he  took  the  whoopin'- 
cough  from  one  of  the  farm-hands  an'  I  took  it 
from  him.  I  was  draggin'  round,  more  dead  than 
alive,  tryin'  to  keep  up  an'  do  the  work.  An' 
Poppa,  seein'  me  so  tuckered  out,  said  I  should 
have  help.  An'  he  hitched  up  an'  drove  to  Chicago 
to  bring  me  someone  from  one  of  them  agencies. 

"Well,  when  he  drove  home  an'  I  see  what  he'd 
brought,  I  thought  he  must  be  crazy.  She  was 
the  prettiest  little  young  thing  you  ever  see,  all 
pink  cheeks  and  yaller  hair,  and  big  sad  eyes. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  265 

A  Swede,  she  was.  But  Poppa,  he  said  she'd  as 
much  as  besought  him  to  take  her,  an'  she  said 
she  could  do  hard  work.  An'  that  she  certainly 
could.  I  never  see  a  better  worker.  But  when 
she  thought  nobody  was  lookin',  she  was  always 
cryin'.  An'  pretty  soon,  when  I  couldn't  help 
seein'  how  things  was  with  her,  she  told  me  her 
trouble. 

"She  was  workin'  in  a  rich  Chicago  family,  with 
a  grand  place  in  town  an'  another  in  the  country. 
An'  while  they  was  at  their  country-place,  the  son 
come  home  from  a  big  college  in  the  East,  bringin' 
a  friend  with  him,  a  fine  young  gentleman  from 
New  York.  Handsome,  he  was,  an'  rich,  an'  just 
finished  his  eddication.  An'  he  stayed  there  a 
month,  visitin',  an'  dancin',  an'  balls  and  parties 
all  the  time.  An'  he  seen  this  girl  that  was  workin' 
in  the  house,  an'  he  fell  in  love  with  her.  She 
vowed  to  me  on  her  Bible  that  he  married  her 
honest,  an'  she  had  a  little  gold  ring  to  show  fer  it, 
but  nothin'  else.  After  a  bit,  come  time  to  leave, 
he  went  off  as  gay  as  you  please,  promisin'  to 
send  back  for  her.  An'  he  was  killed  in  a  railroad 
accident  goin'  home.  Word  come  of  it  to  the  son, 
and  this  poor  girl  fainted  when  she  heard  them 
talkin'  about  it.  An'  that  made  her  lady  kind  of 
suspicious.  So,  after  a  bit,  when  the  girl  seen 
how  things  was  with  her,  she  left  the  place,  not 
knowin'  what  to  do.  An'  she  went  to  this  agency, 
an',  that  very  day,  come  Poppa  lookin'  for  help. 

"After  she'd  been  with  me  five  months,  her  little 


266  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

baby  was  born.  An'  the  poor  mother  lived  only 
three  weeks  to  love  it.  She  died  happy  because  I 
promised  her  I'd  care  for  the  child.  An'  I'd  always 
wanted  a  little  girl.  An'  Poppa,  he  says:  'Why 
not  adopt  it  legal,  and  have  it  fer  your  own? 
Maybe  it  will  be  a  comfort  to  you'  he  ses,  'an* 
bring  a  blessin'  in  its  train.'  So  we  did — an* 
that  baby  was  you. " 

Nora  had  been  sitting  bolt  upright  in  her  chair, 
her  hand  on  her  throat,  her  eyes  staring  ahead  of 
her,  and  her  heart  beating  to  suffocation.  At 
last  she  spoke. 

"Then  I  am  not  your  child,  at  all?"  she  asked, 
and  her  voice  sounded  in  her  own  ears  like  the 
voice  of  a  stranger. 

"By  law,  you  are.  By  legal  adoption.  You 
never  had  no  other  father  or  mother — not  to  call 
'em  such.  He  was  dead  before  you  was  born,  an* 
she  give  you  to  me  with  her  dyin'  breath." 

The  first  feeling  of  which  Nora  was  conscious 
was  relief — unspeakable,  surging,  suffocating, 
relief.  She  was  not  the  child  of  these  people! 
No  blood  of  theirs  was  in  her  veins.  The  plain, 
narrow,  hard,  old  man  who  "kept  a  livery-stable,  " 
was  not  her  father  (oh,  the  bliss  of  that  thought!). 
Her  father  was  a  gentleman,  a  college-bred  aristo- 
crat, a  gay  and  fascinating  New  Yorker, — perhaps, 
even,  the  friend  and  equal  of  those  very  people 
with  whom  she  was  now  associating. 

To  the  mother  in  domestic  service,  and  to  the 
possible  stain  on  her  birth,  she  gave,  at  first,  no 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  267 

thought  whatever.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a 
gentleman! 

As  she  dwelt  upon  the  idea,  her  feelings  of  relief 
turned  to  red-hot  indignation.  What  right  had 
they  to  keep  her  from  her  deserts  all  those  years? 
To  force  her  to  live  under  conditions  against  which 
every  drop  of  blood  in  her  veins  had  cried  out  in 
protest?  It  was  an  outrage,  an  impudent  inter- 
ference with  her  rightful  destiny. 

"Did  you  never  make  any  effort  to  find  my 
father's  people  and  to  communicate  with  them?" 
she  demanded. 

Mrs.  Brewster  shook  her  grey  head.  "How 
could  we?"  she  replied,  "seein'  we  didn't  even 
know  their  name?  An'  s'posin'  we  had,  do  you 
think  they'd  believe  the  tale  of  that  there  hired 
girl"  (Nora  winced),  "that  they'd  never  seen? 
Do  you  s'pose  they'd  grant  her  claim  on  'em,  an* 
her  with  not  so  much  as  a  paper  to  show?  Poppa 
an'  me  thought  we  was  befriendin'  a  lonely  orphan, 
'sted  'o  sendin'  her  to  an  asylum.  We  thought 
she'd  grow  up  to  be  our  own  dear  lovin'  daughter, 
an'  a  blessin'  to  our  old  age. " 

At  these  words,  the  first  sharp  prick  of  self- 
reproach  assailed  Nora.  She  saw  her  parents' 
side  of  the  question. 

"Mother"  (and  she  spoke  almost  humbly),  "I 
fear  I  have  been  a  sad  disappointment  to  you.  I 
do  most  sincerely  appreciate  all  you  have  done  for 
me.  Please  believe  that.  And  if  I  have  seemed 
ungrateful,  let  it  excuse  me,  somewhat,  that  every 


268  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

instinct  in  me  must  have  been  crying  out  for  that 
which  was  its  due. " 

And  once  more  she  forgot  her  mother,  in  her 
renewed  self-pity. 

Mrs.  Brewster  rose  and  went  slowly  over  to  her 
bureau.  She  opened  a  drawer,  and  returned  with 
a  small  packet  in  her  hand. 

"Your  mother  left  it  to  me  whether  or  no  you 
was  ever  to  be  told  the  truth,"  she  said.  "If  me 
an'  Poppa  thought  best  to  tell  you,  you  was  to  have 
this  package.  There's  a  letter  in  it.  I  don't  be- 
lieve him  an'  me  would  ever  of  unsealed  our  lips  if 
you'd  'a'  been  like  the  rest  of  us.  But  things 
bein'  as  they  was,  we  talked  it  over,  as  he  lay 
sick  in  that  there  bed,  an'  he  enjoined  on  me  solemn 
to  tell  you  the  truth. " 

She  handed  Nora  the  packet  as  she  spoke.  "I 
guess  you  can  read  the  letter  by  the  firelight, "  she 
said. 

Nora  bent  forward,  with  throbbing  heart  and 
trembling  ringers. 

Inside  the  cover  there  were  but  two  things:  a 
little,  cheap,  gold  ring,  and  a  note  written  on 
paper  that  was  yellowed  by  time.  Thirty  years 
had  it  lain  there,  waiting  to  bear  its  message. 

"Your  fathers  name  was  stefan  witney,  he  was 
a  grand  gentelman  and  he  give  me  onest  marege 
this  I  sware  with  my  dying  breth. " 

That  was  all.     That  was  the  letter  of  the  mother 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  269 

whom  she  had  never  consciously  seen.  And  her 
father,  that  "grand  gentelman,"  had  already 
left  this  world  when  she  entered  it. 

"Do  you  know  what  this  says?"  she  asked; 
and  Mrs.  Brewster  replying  in  the  negative,  Nora 
read  the  note  aloud. 

"  Mother, "  she  questioned,  "  does  any  one  know 
of  this?  Walter,  or  any  one?" 

"Nobody  in  this  world  but  jest  me  an*  you." 

"Then  will  you  leave  it  to  me  whether,  or  not, 
it  shall  ever  be  told?  Explain  the  money  question 
to  Walter  by  saying  that  I  wanted  nothing,  that 
I  had  so  much  I  absolutely  refused  to  take  any- 
thing more.  And  let  me  think  this  over,  at  my 
leisure,  and  decide  what  I  want  to  do. " 

"Yes,"  agreed  Mrs.  Brewster.  "That'll  be 
best.  You're  real  good  about  the  money,  Ellie. " 

They  fell  into  a  long  silence. 

Nora  sat  there  with  the  note  and  the  ring  in  her 
hand,  the  firelight  enveloping  her  as  she  leaned 
forward  to  it,  the  rest  of  the  room  making  an  ever- 
darkening  background.  Her  face  looked  white 
and  strained.  Every  nerve  in  her  body  was  jump- 
ing like  an  aching  tooth.  She  felt  as  if  the  whole 
thing  must  be  a  fevered  dream.  It  couldn't  be 
real.  She  would  soon  awaken  in  her  bed,  at 
home.  These  were  brain- visions,  phantasies, 
illusions. 

She  glanced  at  her  watch, — half -past  five. 

Her  mother  saw  the  movement  and  roused 
herself. 


270  THe   Road  to  Mecca 

"You'll  be  goin'  soon,  if  you  won't  stay,"  she 
said,  and  Nora  knew  by  an  uncontrollable  tone  in 
her  voice  that  the  prospect  of  a  longer  time  to- 
gether would  have  been  as  appalling  to  her 
mother  as  to  her,  herself.  "You  got  to  have 
some  supper  before  your  journey." 

"Oh,  no,  Mother.  I've  just  eaten.  I  couldn't 
eat  again. " 

"Jest  a  cup  of  tea  an'  a  scrap  of  toast  an'  jam, " 
coaxed  the  old  woman.  ' '  That  plum  jam  that  you 
was  always  so  set  on.  I'll  open  up  a  tumbler. 
An'  I'll  fix  your  tea,  myself 

As  Nora  made  a  motion  of  negation,  her  mother 
cried: 

"Let  me  be.  Let  me  do  it.  I  must  do  some- 
thing Seems  if  I'd  die,  with  night  comin'  on  an' 
all,  an'  him  out  there,  alone. " 

"Shall  I  come  down  and  help  you?"  offered 
Nora,  realizing  that  it  was  the  part  of  kindness  to 
humour  her. 

' '  No,  you  stay  right  here  and  rest  a  bit.  You've 
had  right  smart  of  a  shock.  I'll  not  be  alone. 
Mary's  down  there,  an'  Walter  an'  the  children. 
You  come  down  when  I  call  you. " 

Some  twenty  minutes  later,  Nora  responded 
to  the  summons.  Mary  and  Walter  and  their 
youngest  two  daughters  were  standing  in  their 
outside  wraps,  preparing  for  departure.  Walter 
was  to  drive  them  out  to  the  farm  and  was 
then  to  return  to  spend  the  night  with  his 
mother  and  his  oldest  daughter.  Thus  Mrs. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  271 

Brewster  would  not  be  left  alone  over  that  first 
night. 

On  the  same  principle  that  leads  us  to  press  an 
already  aching  tooth,  Mary  had  lingered  to  catch 
another  glimpse  of  her  beautiful  sister-in-law,  and 
her  reward  was  a  heart  hot  with  envy,  to  carry 
home  with  her. 

As  she  entered  the  lighted  room,  the  gems  on 
Nora's  fingers  flashed  as  they  could  not  flash  in 
the  semi-darkened  chamber  upstairs.  The  de- 
tails of  her  fashionable  ensemble  were  all  bewilder- 
ingly  evident — her  high-heeled  buckled  shoes,  her 
gossamer-thin  silkstockings,  her  wonderful  coiffure, 
her  polished  and  pointed  finger-nails,  the  jewel  that 
sparkled  at  her  throat.  Mary's  unhappiness  that 
night,  though  of  a  different  stamp  from  that  of 
her  mother-in-law,  was  as  poignant,  and  almost  as 
hard  to  bear. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

AT  last,  it  was  over.  The  final  good-byes  had 
been  said,  Nora  had  been  escorted  to  the  station 
by  her  brother  who  had  returned  in  time  to  per- 
form that  office,  the  train  had  been  boarded,  had 
pulled  out  of  the  station,  and  was  now  carrying 
her  swiftly  back  to  her  accustomed  life. 

Ever  since  she  could  remember,  Nora  had 
had  a  sense  of  unreality  in  a  lighted  train.  The 
darkness  outside,  her  own  reflection  against  the  win- 
dow-panes (now  turned  into  temporary,  if  defec- 
tive, mirrors),  the  intermittent  flash  of  the  stations, 
all  seemed  to  her  like  something  in  a  spirit-world. 

She  couldn't  think.  Connected  thought  would 
come  later,  she  supposed.  She  could  only  feel, 
and  wonder,  and  throb. 

The  real  torture  began  after  she  was  settled  on 
the  New  York  sleeper.  Such  a  night  of  horror! 
Such  a  night!  Not  for  a  moment  could  fugitive 
sleep  be  coaxed  to  visit  her. 

But  her  brain  cleared,  even  as  it  grew  hotter  and 
more  weary.  She  was  able  to  think  and  to  reason. 

The  first  thing  that  came  to  her  like  a  shock  was 
that  her  good  blood  would  never  be  of  any  worldly 
advantage  to  her.  Only  to  herself  could  she  gloat 

272 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  273 

over  it.  She  would  never  be  able  to  boast  of  it 
to  others.  She  saw  that  now. 

Imagine  telling  Edith  about  her  "gentleman" 
father.  To  have  had  such  a  father,  and  yet  to 
have  been  raised  by  the  Brewsters,  would  neces- 
sitate explanation.  That  given,  how  was  Nora 
any  better  off?  A  servant-girl  for  a  mother  was 
as  little  desirable  as  a  livery-stable  keeper  for  a 
father.  And  the  possible  stigma  on  her  birth 
would  loom  much  larger  to  others  than  it  did 
to  her.  No,  she  couldn't  tell.  She  clenched  her 
teeth  with  rage  as  she  realized  that  fact. 

After  long  consideration,  she  decided  that  not 
even  her  husband  must  know.  He  was  so  ' '  queer. ' ' 
He  would  far  rather  feel  that  she  came  from  the 
same  respectable  middle-stock  from  which  he, 
himself,  had  sprung,  than  to  realize  that  she  was  a 
hybrid  production — the  child  of  a  gentleman  and 
a  servant-girl.  It  would  make  him  feel  "strange" 
with  her,  and  it  might  put  him  on  the  defensive 
against  even  greater  shocks  than  she  had  already 
given  him.  Bob  mustn't  know.  She  was  sure 
of  that. 

How  many  things,  though,  were  now  explained 
to  her  own  brain.  Her  innate  hatred  of  the  hard, 
narrow,  cheap,  life  into  which  she  had  been 
forced!  Her  voice — (from  neither  parent  could 
she  have  inherited  the  ordinary,  middle-class 
American  voice!)  Her  yearnings  after  better 
things!  Her  instinct,  without  knowledge  or  ex- 
perience! And,  low  be  it  whispered,  her  secret 
it 


274  THe  Goad  to  Mecca 

feelings,  which  were  as  often  vulgar  as  well-bred. 
Even  to  herself  she  had  never  admitted  it  before; 
but  the  fact  remained  that  there  had  always  battled 
in  her  the  two  impulses;  she  never  could  foresee 
which  would  assail  her  next.  Now  she  knew  why 
she  was  both  "common"  and  "refined." 

Ah  me !  Ah  me !  Was  ever  woman  so  tortured, 
so  beset  ?  Never,  as  long  as  she  lived,  could  Nora 
spend  a  night  on  a  sleeping-car  without  being 
carried  back,  by  every  sound,  by  every  sight,  by 
every  odour,  to  the  night  of  that  day  on  which  her 
foster-father  was  buried. 

She  reached  home,  an  absolute  physical  wreck. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  she  cried  to  Therese. 
"Look  at  me!  And  I  cannot  sleep,  even  though 
I  have  all  day  before  me." 

Therese  was  full  of  sympathy. 

"Any  messages?"  Nora  asked  her,  "any  com- 
plications?" 

No,  all  was  as  smooth  as  velvet.  Why  would 
not  Madame  permit  a  sleeping-powder  from  the 
doctor? 

Madame  would.  It  was  ordered  by  telephone 
and  administered.  Nora  retired  into  a  darkened 
room,  leaving  orders  that  nothing  should  disturb 
her,  prior  to  half-past  five,  unless  she  rang,  in 
the  meantime,  for  food.  If  there  were  no  tinkle  of 
her  bell,  the  house  was  to  be  like  the  grave.  ("The 
grave ' ' !  She  shivered . ) 

At  five-thirty,  Therese  was  to  rouse  her  and 
have  her  bath  ready.  This  was  to  be  followed  by 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  275 

a  tray  with  some  breast  of  chicken,  some  toast,  and 
a  pot  of  tea.  The  hair-dresser  was  ordered  for 
six-thirty. 

Thus,  twenty-four  hours  after  the  strangest 
day  that  her  life  had  ever  known,  Nora  passed  the 
corresponding  hours  in  a  dull  drugged  sleep,  that 
wras  more  like  the  cessation  of  being  than  like 
sleep.  And  in  the  meantime,  Therese  slipped  out 
to  the  druggist's  in  the  village.  Madame  had 
never  yet  used  rouge!  Well,  we  all  come  to  it, 
sooner  or  later.  It  would  do  no  harm  to  be 
prepared. 

Nora  both  needed  the  rouge,  and  used  it.  It 
was  well  that  all  the  arrangements  for  her  dinner- 
party had  been  so  carefully  planned  in  advance. 
She  lived  through  the  evening  in  a  maze.  But 
no  one  seemed  to  notice  it.  Everything  else 
being  perfect,  Nora  was  taken  for  granted.  The 
guests  were  very  gay  and  very  congenial  and  the 
dinner  was  voted  a  huge  success.  Nora's  Bridge 
alone  was  not  up  to  par.  But  everyone  has  off- 
days. 

After  the  guests  had  gone,  Bob  lingered  a 
moment  looking  at  his  wife.  "You  don't  look 
like  yourself,  tonight,"  he  said.  "What  is  it?" 

"I'm  tired  to  death.  I  couldn't  sleep  on  the 
train  and  I  had  to  have  a  sleeping-powder  when  I 
got  home.  It  has  made  my  eyes  look  queer," 
she  answered  evasively. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was  her  slightly  artificial 


276  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

look  that  had  struck  him.  For  the  first  time  in  her 
life,  Nora  was  rouged.  Lightly  and  artistically 
rouged,  to  be  sure,  but,  nevertheless,  rouged. 

"How  did  you  find  them  all  in  Allenbury?" 
her  husband  continued. 

"All  very  much  the  same,  except  poor  Mother. 
She  is  entirely  broken.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it 
on  Sunday,  Bob.  I'm  dead  for  sleep.  Good- 
night." 

But  on  Sunday,  she  had  no  chance.  She  slept 
late,  went  to  church,  and  was  carried  off  for  lun- 
cheon by  the  Morrises.  After  luncheon,  they  had 
a  bit  of  Bridge,  and  she  returned  home  just  in 
time  to  receive  a  call  from  the  entire  Beech  wold 
house-party.  They  all  drank  tea  and  high-balls, 
and  discussed  clothes,  cards,  horses,  and  opera. 

"I  am  returning  to  town  next  week,  Mrs. 
Prentiss,  and  you  must  come  and  have  luncheon 
with  me,"  said  Mrs.  Carr.  As  always,  she  was 
Nora's  ideal  personified.  Always  beautiful, 
whether  hatted  or  bare-headed,  whether  dressed  for 
daylight  or  evening;  always  gracious,  and  high- 
bred, and  lovely;  Nora  contrasted  her  mentally 
with  Edith  Little  and  wondered  how  she  could 
ever  have  been  captivated  by  the  latter. 

The  invitation  to  Mrs.  Carr's  luncheon  arrived 
that  same  week.  It  was  to  be  a  formal  affair 
followed  by  Bridge. 

There  were  four  tables  of  the  most  exclusive 
women  in  New  York.  The  Bridge  at  Nora's 


THe   Road  to  Mecca  277 

table  was  rather  poor,  but  that  did  not  disturb 
her.  She  was  playing  with  three  women  whose 
homes  she  would  give  her  head  to  enter. 

A  real  Bridge-lover  would  rather  play  good 
Bridge  with  a  tramp  than  bad  Bridge  with  a  king. 
Not  so  Nora.  In  spite  of  the  excellence  of  her 
own  game,  it  was  always  the  people  with  whom 
she  played  that  concerned  her  the  most. 

It  surprised  her  not  a  little  to  find  that  her  fas- 
tidious hostess  was  as  inveterate  a  smoker  as  was 
Edith  Little  herself.  Nora  had  decided  that 
Edith's  constant  smoking  was  one  of  her  "com- 
mon" points.  Now  she  was  obliged  to  readjust 
her  standards.  Apparently,  it  was  not  so  much 
what  was  done,  as  the  way  in  which  it  was  done, 
and  the  rank  and  importance  of  the  doer.  Her 
present  hostess  was  the  fascinating  and  courted 
Mrs.  Frank  Carr,  while  Edith  Little  was  only 
just  Edith  Little. 

Didn't  someone  once  remark  that  "familiarity 
breeds  contempt"?  Hadn't  Nora,  herself,  form- 
erly described  poor  little  Edith  in  the  most  glow- 
ing terms  to  Bob?  Edith,  the  " travelled, "  and 
"cultured,"  and  "serious," — the  friend  and  as- 
sociate of  "professors,  clergymen,  and  even  of 
kings  and  queens"? 

Alack-a-day!     How  rapidly  we  progress! 

Nora  sat  in  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  box  on  the 
opening-night  of  the  Opera.  She  went  to  Mrs. 
Carr's  charity  Christmas  tree  "for  the  East-side 


278  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

tots."  On  Christmas  morning  she  sent  to  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  orchids 
and  to  Mrs.  Carr  five  dozen  American  Beauty 
roses.  She  worked,  and  flattered,  slaved  and 
connived,  smiled,  and  fawned,  and  copied.  Never 
a  moment's  rest  did  she  take  from  her  labours. 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  to  introduce  to  society 
her  niece — the  daughter  of  her  youngest  sister, 
now  dead.  The  girl  was  beautiful,  and  an  heiress, 
and  many  functions  were  planned  in  her  honour. 
The  first,  at  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's,  was  to  be  an  after- 
noon affair.  Devoutly  though  secretly  did  Nora 
pray  that  she  would  be  asked  to  stand  in  the 
receiving-line. 

Her  prayers,  however,  were  not  answered..  She 
received  a  card  of  invitation,  of  course,  to  be  one  of 
the  ordinary  guests,  but  nothing  more.  One  day, 
just  before  the  affair,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  spoke  to 
her  on  the  subject. 

"I  wish  you  were  going  to  receive  with  me, "  she 
confided.  "But,  you  see,  these  family  affairs  are 
very  intimate.  I  have  a  strong  feeling  that  no 
one  but  the  family  and  friends  of  long  standing 
should  be  represented  in  the  receiving-party, 
except,  of  course,  for  a  few  of  the  best  debutantes, 
to  give  the  proper  youthful  note. " 

"Of  course  not,"  cried  Nora.  "I  shouldn't 
dream  of  such  a  thing. "  (She  had  been  dreaming 
of  nothing  else.)  "But,  dear  Mrs.  Van  Twiner, 
you  have  been  so  adorable  to  me,  I  do  want  to  do 
something  personal  on  that  day.  I  have  been 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  279 

thinking, — there  will  be  bushels  of  flowers  sent,  of 
course.  Couldn't  I  come  here  in  the  morning  and 
help  receive  them  and  arrange  them,  and  file  the 
cards  for  you?  You  needn't  bother  even  to  see 
me;  I  will  just  take  charge  of  that  one  thing,  if 
you  will  let  me. " 

"That  is  a  very  sweet  idea, "  observed  the  great 
lady.  "Very  sweet  indeed.  You  are  sure  it 
won't  tire  you?" 

"Not  in  the  least, "  Nora  assured  her. 

Her  own  floral  offering  for  that  day  was  the  most 
magnificent  one  received.  And,  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, she  was  astir  in  her  Maynardstown  home. 
Under  her  personal  supervision,  Therese  packed  a 
beautiful  reception  frock  and  all  its  accessories. 
This  was  left  at  home  while  Nora  hied  herself 
to  New  York  and  to  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  house. 
There  she  worked  and  supervised  all  morning, 
sending  up  two  queries  to  the  lady  of  the  house, 
just  to  keep  her  in  mind  that  Nora  was  under  her 
roof.  About  luncheon-time,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's 
maid  came  and  said  that  her  mistress  wanted  to 
speak  to  Mrs.  Prentiss. 

"My  dear,"  was  her  greeting,  "you've  been  an 
angel — a  veritable  angel.  They  tell  me  that  the 
flowers  look  simply  lovely.  And  all  those  cards 
filed,  with  descriptions  of  what  they  accom- 
panied— you  have  a  wonderful  head!  I  believe 
that  at  my  age,  it  will  be  as  good  as  my  own. " 

"Never,  never,"  denied  Nora  prettily. 

"Indeed  it  will.      Now,  you  must  be  tired  to 


280  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

death.  It's  a  perfect  farce  for  you  to  run  out  into 
the  country  and  back  again.  Stay  and  have  a  bite 
of  luncheon  with  me,  and  an  hour's  rest  afterwards. 
Telephone  out  for  your  clothes  and  dress  here. " 

" How  good  of  you, "  cried  Nora  gratefully.  "It 
would  be  restful." 

"It  would  be  silly  to  dream  of  anything  else. 
Just  tell  your  maid  what  to  send  you  and  stay  and 
receive  with  me. " 

"Receive?  Dear  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  that  would 
be  too  heavenly!" 

So,  on  that  great  occasion,  New  York  Society 
beheld  Nora  Prentiss,  safe  within  the  fold  of  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner's  most  intimate  friends.  Not  know- 
ing the  circumstances,  Society  was  duly  impressed. 

Nora  made  love  to  the  pretty  debutante  so 
effectively  that  she  was  asked,  later,  to  chaperone 
her  on  various  occasions.  And  thus  was  Nora's 
reward  very  great. 

A  still  more  wonderful  thing  befell  her. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

ONE  January  morning,  Nora's  maid  brought  her, 
amongst  other  things,  the  following  note: 

MY  DEAR  Mrs.  PRENTISS, 

It  will  give  Mr.  Carr  and  me  great  pleasure  if 
you  will  be  our  guest  on  a  trip  to  Palm  Beach. 
We  shall  go  in  our  car  and  shall  be  a  party  of  four, 
including  you.  Bring  your  maid,  of  course. 

We  hope  to  start  on  the  second  of  February,  and 
to  be  gone  three  or  four  weeks. 

Trusting  that  we  may  have  the  pleasure  of 
entertaining  you,  I  am, 

Always  cordially  yours, 
SYBIL  VAN  VECHTEN  CARR. 

Nora  hastened  to  town  to  tell  the  good  news  to 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner.  They  were  now  on  such  inti- 
mate terms  that  Nora  dropped  in  constantly  and 
informally. 

"Very  nice,"  approved  Mrs.  Van  Twiner. 
"You  will  enjoy  that,  I'm  sure." 

"  I  was  hoping  that  you  were  to  be  the  fourth, " 
suggested  Nora. 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  stared  at  her  and  then  put 
back  her  head  with  a  peal  of  laughter. 

281 


282  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"I?  Oh,  you  innocent.  No,  there  isn't  much 
doubt  as  to  the  fourth  member  of  Sybil  Carr's 
party.  But,  of  course,  you  couldn't  be  expected 
to  know  about  it.  " 

She  paused  for  a  moment  before  she  continued : 

' '  My  dear,  I  may  as  well  tell  you,  there  has  been 
a  man  desperately  in  love  with  Sybil  Carr  for 
years.  You  can  hardly  blame  him;  and,  for  that 
matter,  you  can  hardly  blame  her,  either.  She  is 
not  particularly  happy  in  her  marriage.  Frank 
Carr  is  not  attractive,  as  you  must  have  noticed. 
I  never  could  see  why  she  married  him,  at  all. 
He  must  have  won  her  by  sheer  dogged  persistence. 
She  refused  him  several  times,  and  he  told  her 
he  simply  couldn't  live  without  her, — he'd  rather 
have  her  on  any  terms  than  not  have  her  at  all. 
And,  in  the  end,  he  got  her.  But  this  other  man 
is  as  fascinating  in  his  way  as  Sybil  is  in  hers. 
They  were  engaged  at  one  time,  but  they  had  a 
quarrel  and  he  went  off  in  a  rage  and  married  some- 
one else.  And  Sybil  married  Frank. 

"But,  unfortunately,  there  is  no  doubt  as  to 
where  her  heart  is.  And,  if  it  comes  to  a  question 
of  faithfulness,  those  two  have  certainly  been  more 
faithful  to  each  other  than  most  husbands  and 
wives.  Everyone  accepts  the  affair.  I  deplore  it, 
and  I  show  my  disapproval  by  never  inviting  them 
to  my  house  together.  They  both  come  here,  but 
at  different  times.  However,  Sybil  has  a  right  to 
mould  her  life  according  to  her  own  ideas.  She 
is  one  of  us"  (it  is  impossible  to  transcribe  the 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  283 

manner  in  which  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  said  those 
words,  "one  of  us"),  "and  so  is  her  lover;  and  so, 
too,  is  her  husband.  If  he  is  satisfied,  it  is  cer- 
tainly no  one's  else  business.  I  quite  agree  with 
European  theories  on  such  subjects;  if  the  hus- 
band does  not  object,  no  one  else  need.  He  is 
the  keeper  of  his  wife's  honour."  (These tenets 
were,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  only  ones  that  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner  could  gracefully  hold.  Although  her 
own  life  had  been  absolutely  free  from  scandal,  that 
of  her  married  daughter  in  France  was  modelled 
on  very  modern  lines,  as  everyone  knew.) 

Just  before  Nora  took  her  leave,  her  hostess 
amended  her  confidences. 

"My  dear,  I  need  scarcely  ask  you  never  to 
discuss  anything  that  you  notice  on  this  trip. 
Sybil  Carr  has  taken  a  great  fancy  to  you,  and 
you  are  about  to  accept  her  hospitality.  There  is 
no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  she  has  chosen  you  as 
much  for  your  detachment  from  any  particular 
circle  as  for  your  own  charm.  You  are  invited, 
of  course,  to  offset  Frank  Carr  and  to  keep  him 
amused.  But  do  your  best  to  shield  Sybil  from 
any  gossip  you  may  hear.  She  is  the  daughter  of 
one  of  my  girlhood  friends,  and  she  is  a  darling, 
in  spite  of  this  affair. " 

Nora  promised  with  all  the  warmth  she  could 
muster,  and  went  out  to  digest  this  latest  social 
food. 

So  married  flirtations  were  not  confined  to  per- 
sons of  the  Edith  Little  type!  A  woman  like 


284  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Sybil  Carr  might  have  a  love-affair  and,  even 
though  everyone  knew  it,  might  suffer  for  it  not 
at  all.  The  difference  seemed  to  lie  in  being,  or 
not  being,  "one  of  us."  Such  being  the  case  it 
behooved  one,  more  than  ever,  to  strengthen  one's 
own  position  in  the  fold. 

There  followed  a  month  of  preparation  (sand- 
wiched between  social  duties)  of  clothes-purchas- 
ing, of  fittings,  of  satisfactions,  and  dissatisfactions. 

Therese  was  in  a  seventh  heaven  of  delight.  Of 
course,  Madame  Carr  would  also  be  accompanied 
by  a  French  maid,  and  each  of  the  gentlemen  by 
his  valet.  Oh,ld-l&!  That  was  the  life !  Therese 
knew  much  about  the  back-stairs  of  big  hotels. 

At  last,  all  was  ready.  The  final  frill  was 
packed,  the  final  trunk  locked.  Nora  was  to  meet 
the  rest  of  the  party  at  the  station  where  their  car 
would  be  waiting  for  them. 

As  she  walked  into  the  big  waiting-room  of  the 
station,  the  first  person  she  descried  was  Mrs. 
Carr,  standing  looking  for  Nora,  her  maid  a  few 
steps  away.  Sybil  took  Nora's  hand  in  a  warm 
clasp. 

' '  Isn't  it  restful  to  be  really  started  ?' '  she  greeted. 
"I  do  so  hate  the  last  preparations  for  a  journey 
that  I  sometimes  vow  that  I  will  settle  down  at 
home  for  the  remainder  of  my  days.  It  is  such  a 
pleasure  to  have  you  with  us,  Mrs.  Prentiss.  I 
can  think  of  no  one  who  would  make  our  party 
more  complete.  We  will  get  into  the  car  as  soon 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  285 

as  the  men  come  back;  they  are  off  seeing  about 
some  last  arrangements.  Ah,  here  they  are!  I 
think  you  don't  know  the  fourth  member  of  our 
party.  Mrs.  Prentiss,  may  I  present  Mr.  Kip?" 

And  Nora  turned  to  find  herself  confronting  the 
fascinating  man  whom  she  had  met  at  Edith 
Little's  dinner  two  years  and  a  half  previously, 
and  had  never  spoken  to  since.  The  man  who  had 
caused  her  weeks  of  feverish  unrest.  The  only 
man  who,  as  yet  at  least,  had  ever  kissed  her, 
with  the  sole  exception  of  her  husband ! 

He  bowed  as  though  he  had  never  seen  her 
before.  For  the  life  of  her,  she  could  not  tell 
whether,  or  not,  he  remembered  her. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Prentiss?"  he  smiled, 
extending  his  hand.  "Mrs.  Carr  has  been  telling 
me  all  sorts  of  nice  things  about  you.  You  have 
a  terrific  reputation  to  sustain." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THERE  was  no  mistake  about  it,  it  was  a  difficult 
situation ! 

Here  was  the  man  that  Nora  had  almost  prayed 
to  meet  again;  the  man  whose  admiration  had 
flattered  her  more  than  anything  else  that  had  ever 
happened  in  her  whole  life;  the  man  she  was 
secretly  counting  upon  to  be  her  graceful  cavalier 
through  the  entrancing  mazes  of  her  new  life! 
And  now  she  found  him,  only  to  discover  that  he 
was  the  property  of  another. 

She  was  not  long  left  in  doubt  as  to  whether 
Roger  Kip  remembered  her.  His  eyes  told  her, 
even  though  his  lips  did  not;  but  those  eyes  were 
tree  to  say  such  things  only  in  the  rare  intervals 
when  Sybil  was  not  present. 

Every  moment  that  Nora  and  he  were  in  the 
same  room,  even  at  a  distance  of  its  entire  length, 
she  was  not  only  conscious  of  him,  but  conscious 
that  he  was  conscious  of  her. 

"How  one  feels  you,"  he  breathed  in  her  ear 
once,  as  they  all  withdrew  to  the  observation-end 
of  the  car,  while  awaiting  dinner. 

During  the  meal,  his  foot  touched  hers.  To  her 
surprise,  all  the  blood  in  her  body  went  immediately 

286 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  287 

surging  through  her  face  and  neck.  At  once,  her 
self-conscious  analysis  began.  Perhaps  the  things 
she  read  in  novels  were  true,  after  all.  Perhaps 
she  was  not  incapable  of  love,  not  "queer, "  as  she 
sometimes  feared.  It  might  be  only  that  she 
was  over-fastidious;  that  a  man  such  as  this  one 
could  inspire  in  her  that  feeling  which  she  had 
never  yet  experienced.  How  she  wished  she 
could  know  if  that  were  true !  She  hated  to  think 
that  there  was  something  in  life  which  other  women 
might  have,  but  of  which  she  was  being  cheated. 

"Do  you  sleep  without  an  opiate,  on  the  train, 
Mrs.  Prentiss?"  asked  her  host. 

"Not  well,"  she  confessed. 

"I  don't  expect  to  sleep  for  an  eternity," 
announced  Mr.  Kip.  And  each  of  the  two  women 
took  the  remark  to  herself. 

Nora  thought  it  might  have  been  easier  for  her 
if  Frank  Carr  had  been  more  attractive,  or  more 
attracted.  But  in  that  she  was  mistaken.  When 
a  woman  is  as  interested  in  a  man  as  Nora  was  then 
interested  in  Roger  Kip,  when  she  had  waited  two 
and  a  half  years  to  see  him  again,  no  other  man 
can  take  his  place. 

Comparatively  speaking,  Nora  Prentiss  was  a 
passionless  woman.  But  at  that  particular 
moment,  Roger  Kip  had  all  the  feeling  of  which 
she  was  capable,  well  at  his  command. 

He  was  not  the  professional  lover  that  one  might 
have  imagined.  Although  he  had  had  a  wife,  in 
all  his  life,  up  to  the  moment  he  met  Nora,  but 


288  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

one  woman  had  ever  won  his  devotion  and  to  her 
he  had  been  true  for  years. 

But  his  affair  with  Sybil  Carr  had  now  lasted  for 
six  years.  At  the  end  of  that  period,  it  is  almost 
inevitable  that  one  of  the  parties  shall  be  tired,  even 
though  the  other  is  still  hanging  on  by  the  teeth. 
And,  in  this  particular  case,  it  was  not  Mrs.  Carr 
who  was  tired. 

Palm  Beach  was  a  revelation  to  Nora,  a  revela- 
tion of  horticultural  beauty,  of  gay  life,  of  exqui- 
site dressing,  and  lovely  women,  of  balmy  summer 
when  one  was  just  rescued  from  the  severities  of 
winter,  of  care-free  insouciance,  but,  more  than  all, 
of  new  standards.  As  usual,  she  was  busy  re- 
adjusting herself. 

They  were  immediately  received  with  acclaim 
by  the  smartest  crowd  there — composed  not  only 
of  New  Yorkers  but  of  citizens  of  the  world.  The 
Carr  party  was  in  the  thick  of  everything.  No 
affair  was  complete  without  them,  no  dance  a 
real  success  unless  they  graced  it.  Nora  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  there  was  an  even  smarter  place 
to  dine  than  the  gorgeous  hotel  where  they  were 
stopping.  The  Club,  she  discovered,  was  the 
place  for  parties.  After  dinner  one  played  rou- 
lette or  hazard,  or  watched  others  play.  Every- 
one was  there,  chatting,  laughing,  playing,  flirting. 

On  the  night  of  their  first  dinner  at  the  Club, 
Sybil  Carr  was  easily  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  the  room.  Everyone  turned  to  watch  as  she 
walked  to  her  table. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  289 

To  Nora,  she  was  a  horribly  irritating  person  to 
live  up  to.  A  professional  beauty  is  a  depressing 
standard  of  comparison.  No  matter  how  well 
Nora  looked  in  her  own  room,  no  matter  how 
satisfied  she  felt  as  she  compared  herself  with 
other  women,  when  Mrs.  Carr  entered  the  ring, 
she  was  immediately  discontented  with  herself 
and  her  clothes. 

It  got  on  her  nerves.  It  exasperated  her  Ego. 
No  woman  likes  to  find  herself  constantly  rele- 
gated to  the  second  place.  Nora  wanted  to  scratch 
some  one,  to  give  a  vicious  dig  in  return  for  the 
wounded  vanity  from  which  she  suffered.  Every 
time  that  Roger  Kip  paid  her  a  compliment,  it  was 
balm  to  her  soul.  It  helped  to  put  her  even  with 
her  lovely  hostess. 

On  this  particular  evening,  Sybil  wore  a  gown 
composed  entirely  of  "midnight  blue"  paillettes. 
In  one  light,  it  was  black,  in  another,  sparkling, 
shimmering  blue.  It  fitted  closely  to  her  perfect 
figure  and  threw  her  beautiful  neck  into  the 
highest  relief.  She  had  the  gift  for  clothes.  That 
fact  alone,  in  another  woman,  would  have  in- 
spired Nora's  hatred.  But,  naturally,  one  couldn't 
hate  the  famous  Mrs.  Carr. 

Nora,  herself,  wore  a  wonderful  French  costume 
of  white  and  silver — straight  from  the  hands  of  a 
master.  She  had  been  entirely  content  with  it 
until  she  saw  her  hostess.  Then,  she  hated  it. 
However,  the  other  members  of  her  party  still 
thought  it  highly  satisfactory, — that  was  some 

19 


290  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

comfort, — Mr.  Kip  especially.  He  found  a  chance 
to  tell  her  so. 

"But  I've  seen  even  more  of  your  lovely  neck 
than  this,"  he  whispered.  It  was  his  first  refer- 
ence to  their  former  meeting  and  she  had  studiously 
followed  his  lead. 

When  they  danced,  he  always  danced  first  with 
Sybil.  Then,  of  course,  his  second  dance  was  with 
Nora.  And  life  seemed  all  dancing;  in  the  morn- 
ings, on  the  piazza,  after  the  ocean  dip;  in  the 
afternoons,  in  the  beautiful  cocoanut  grove;  in  the 
evenings,  in  the  Palm  Room,  the  constant  dizzy 
maze  went  on. 

The  first  dance  Nora  ever  had  with  Roger  was 
in  the  cocoanut  grove.  They  had  arrived  a  little 
late  and  had  taken  their  tea  before  dancing.  The 
negro  orchestra  was  thrumming  and  singing  with 
that  peculiar  sad  intonation  that  none  but  the 
African  voice  possesses;  just  as  Nora  and  Roger 
left  their  table  and  stepped  onto  the  dancing-floor, 
the  sun  sank  low  over  Lake  Worth,  and  the  fes- 
toons of  red  lights,  hanging  between  the  palm  trees, 
flashed  suddenly  into  life.  The  hibiscus  blossoms 
were  dimmed  in  contrast. 

For  one  instant,  Roger  pressed  Nora  in  his  arms 
closer  than  the  dance  demanded. 

"Think  how  long  I  have  waited  for  this,"  he 
breathed. 

"For  this  dance?"  she  asked  perversely. 

"No,  not  the  dance.  You  know  well  enough 
what  I  mean,  you  tantalizing  little  devil." 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  291 

But  when  they  returned  to  the  hotel,  paired  in 
double  wheeled-chairs,  he,  of  course,  was  with 
Sybil  and  she  with  Frank  Carr. 

How  she  wondered  what  those  other  two  were 
saying!  She  peered  into  the  chairs  that  passed 
her,  to  see  how  much  lovemaking  could  safely 
be  risked  within  them.  She  rejoiced  in  every 
patch  of  bright  light.  The  shadows  drove  her  to 
despair. 

Roger  had  a  great  deal  to  say  to  Nora  about 
herself  in  a  bathing-costume,  prospectively,  ac- 
tually, and  in  retrospect.  Those  physical  discus- 
sions were  novel  to  her.  The  delicacy  with  which 
they  were  phrased  could  not  quite  destroy  their 
shock;  but  they  were  fascinating. 

Her  standards  were  rapidly  undergoing  another 
readjustment.  There  was  nothing  new  in  this, 
except  the  pace  at  which  they  moved,  and  that 
was  probably  due  to  the  atmosphere  of  the  mental 
and  moral  hothouse  in  which  she  was  living.  Just 
the  atmosphere  for  forcing ! 

Nora's  entire  career  had  been  one  of  shifting 
standards.  To  any  person  who  lacks  a  fixed 
anchor  of  personal  conscience,  this  process  is 
inevitable.  But  in  Nora  Prentiss,  with  her  avid 
ambition,  her  distaste  for  everything  primitive, 
her  negative  basic  principles,  and  her  startling 
receptivity  and  adaptability,  it  was  abnormally 
rapid.  Each  plane  that  she  reached,  speedily 
became  for  her  the  lowest  one  on  which  she  could 
possibly  exist.  She  looked  back  on  her  many 


292  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

former  selves  with  the  eyes  of  a  stranger  and  she 
pushed  ever  on. 

Just  now,  she  was  beginning  to  perceive  hith- 
erto unimagined  short-cuts  to  gratified  ambition. 
She  would  never  be  tempted  to  those  cuts  from 
pleasure  nor  desire.  As  a  means  to  an  end — an 
accepted  means  to  an  end — they  might  not  prove 
negligible. 

To  the  average  decently  reared  woman,  and 
concerning  her  own  personal  conduct,  there  is  a 
sharp  line  that  marks  the  boundary  between 
morality  and  immorality.  It  is  not  a  thing  of 
mists,  and  nuances,  and  vague  melting  approaches. 
It  is  a  hard-and-fast  line,  and  it  is  crossed  by  an 
act.  She  may  gaze  at  the  barrier,  think  of  it, 
speak  of  it,  trifle  and  flirt  with  it,  but  until  she 
crosses  it,  she  is  moral.  Even  though  she  permit 
herself  to  "develop  "  until  her  clothes  are  a  scandal 
of  immodesty,  her  speech  untrammelled,  and  her 
thoughts  a  mire,  these  things  do  not  necessarily 
damn  her.  She  may  be  "broad,"  or  "liberal," 
or  "modern,"  or  "advanced,  or  "emancipated," 
or  even  "disgusting,"  but  she  is  still  entitled  to 
rank  as  a  "good"  woman,  if  she  has  not  crossed 
her  line. 

The  male  mind  finds  this  incomprehensible. 
There  is  small  difference,  from  a  man's  view-point, 
between  mental  and  physical  immorality.  To  a 
woman,  there  is  all  the  difference  in  the  world. 

Men  had,  so  far,  entered  not  at  all  into  Nora's 
calculations.  Her  vanity  had  prompted  a  few 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  293 

vague,  silly,  schoolgirl  dreams  of  adoring  swains 
gazing  toward  her  and  sighing  in  hopeless  adula- 
tion, while  an  envious  world  witnessed  this  proof 
of  her  attractions  and  her  impeccable  virtue.  She 
now  realized  the  idiocy  of  such  dreams.  No  swains 
sighed  forever,  vainly;  they  turned,  instead,  to 
less  forbidding  beauties.  It  was  a  case  of  accept- 
ing the  usual  terms,  or  of  dispensing  with  your 
gallery. 

In  the  highly  sophisticated  atmosphere  which 
Nora  was  now  breathing,  about  the  most  surprising 
thing  was  the  lightness  with  which  these  terms  were 
regarded.  In  Allenbury,  as  in  all  villages,  per- 
fection of  moral  conditions  was  impossible  of 
attainment.  Card-playing  might  be  tabooed, 
dancing  shuddered  at,  drinking  banished.  But 
there  still  remained  lapses  into  a  sin  far  worse  than 
all  these  three  combined — the  sin  against  which 
no  pledges  are  ever  signed  and  which  is  the  Devil's 
best  implement  in  tempting  weak  humanity. 
He  seems  to  use  it  most  effectively  in  the  two  ex- 
tremes of  society:  the  extreme  of  self-denial  and 
that  of  self-indulgence. 

But  in  Allenbury,  its  existence  and  its  conse- 
quences were  never  lightly  regarded,  never  con- 
doned. It  might — it  must  apparently — crop 
up;  it  could  not  be  stamped  out;  its  recurrence 
was  inevitable.  But  it  was  discussed  in  whispers, 
with  headshakes  of  despair,  and  never  in  mixed 
company. 

Thanks    to   her   voluntary    secludedness   from 


C94  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

village  society,  Nora  had  less  than  the  average 
conception  of  these  things.  Her  lack  of  experience 
rendered  them  mysterious;  her  lack  of  "temper- 
ament" (that  elastic  word)  made  them  incredible 
and  obnoxious. 

Now  she  found  herself  in  a  life  where  everyone 
smiled  at  everything;  where  old  creeds  were 
flouted  and  self-indulgence  was  a  god ;  where  there 
was  no  sin  except  seriousness  and  the  loss  of  one's 
footing ;  where  debutantes  bandied  with  adolescent 
youths,  quips  and  jokes  that  left  almost  nothing 
to  the  imagination.  Being  fashionable,  they 
must  be  right;  or,  at  least,  not  so  terribly  wrong 
as  she  had  always  supposed. 

It  takes  character  to  resist  the  insidious 
influence  of  such  surroundings ! 

One  day,  Nora  repeated  to  Roger  a  particularly 
racy  conversation  that  she  had  just  overheard  on 
the  beach.  He  roared  with  laughter. 

"Worthy  of  Mrs.  Little,  isn't  it  ?"  he  commented. 

She  nodded. 

"That  was  a  rum  crowd,"  he  observed,  and 
thus  dismissed  the  Littles. 

Nora  lived  in  constant  fear  that  they  wouldn't 
dismiss  themselves, — that  they  might  turn  up, 
sooner  or  later.  If  they  did,  she  had  definitely 
decided  to  cut  Edith  dead.  She  deserved  it. 
Poor  old  Harry,  who  didn't  know  about  things 
and  wouldn't  understand, — she  would  hate  to  have 
him  see  it!  Still,  there  was  no  other  course. 

But,  fortunately  for  Nora,  they  didn't  come. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  295 

She  discovered  the  reason  when  she  returned 
home. 

At  times,  Nora  was  troubled  by  a  fancied  cold- 
ness in  the  manner  of  her  hostess  to  her.  Or 
rather,  it  was  not  so  much  coldness  (it  was  not 
pronounced  enough  for  that)  as  a  lack  of  warmth. 
It  troubled  her  quite  a  bit.  First  she  would  seem 
to  notice  it,  and  then  it  was  gone,  and  she  reassured 
herself  and  called  herself  a  fool  for  her  fears.  But 
she  was  not  quite  comfortable. 

She  deserved  no  coldness,  she  told  herself.  No 
one  could  have  been  more  careful,  more  guarded, 
more  discreet,  than  she.  She  couldn't  keep 
Roger  Kip  from  making  love  to  her,  could  she? 
That  was  his  affair — his  and  Sybil  Carr's. 

There  came  a  masked  costume-ball,  heralded 
by  much  preparation  and  eagerly  anticipated  by 
everyone.  Nora,  who  had  never  seen  a  masked 
ball  in  her  life,  was  assured  that  "it  was  more  fun 
than  anything  in  the  world. ' '  Later,  she  knew  why. 

She  went  in  the  rather  hackneyed  costume  of  a 
Pierrette.  Sybil  Carr  wore  a  wonderful  Persian 
dress  for  which  she  had  sent  home.  And  the  two 
men  were  in  black  dominoes. 

Their  party  had  naturally  found  it  necessary 
to  disclose  themselves  to  each  other,  in  order  to  go 
together.  They  were  paired  in  the  usual  manner 
for  the  first  dance.  At  the  second,  a  tall  Turk 
claimed  Sybil  and  Nora  expected  Roger  to  come  to 
her.  Instead,  and  to  her  bitter  disappointment,  a 
white  domino  came  up  and  took  her. 


296  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Do  you  know  me?"  he  whispered,  and  she 
almost  stopped  in  her  tracks.  It  was  Roger's 
voice. 

"But  why  did  you  change?"  she  cried. 

"Hush!  Not  so  loud.  You  know  perfectly 
well  why  I  changed,  young  woman!" 

"But  there  are  dozens  of  black  dominoes  here. 
You  were  completely  disguised." 

"I  am  taking  no  chances.  I  shall  change  many 
times.  Only  you,  I  hope,  will  know  me  in  the 
white.  I  have  much  business  with  you  tonight, 
Nora, darling. " 

That  evening  they  were  not  so  discreet. 

Things  went  on  for  some  ten  or  twelve  days. 
Not  half  of  their  visit  was  over  and  there  was  a 
distinct  feel  of  strain  in  the  atmosphere. 

Probably,  everyone  is  a  fool  once  in  a  lifetime, 
and  this  was  Nora's  insanity.  Never  before,  and 
never  afterwards,  did  she  put  a  mere  man  ahead 
of  her  own  evident  interests.  And,  even  in  the 
present  instance,  it  was  a  case  of  flattered  vanity 
more  than  of  anything  else.  She  was  proving 
more  attractive  than  the  fascinating  Mrs.  Carr, 
and  she  was  sure  no  harm  could  come  of  the  flirta- 
tion. She  kept  telling  herself  that  "no  one  could 
ever  know. " 

(The  same  old  tale!  There  must  be  something 
to  it,  or  how  could  it  last  so  long  ?) 

One  afternoon,  they  had  been  having  tea  in  the 
cocoanut  grove.  Mrs.  Carr  said  that  she  was  tired 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  297 

and  was  going  home  to  rest  before  dinner.  Roger 
made  the  usual  perfunctory  motion  to  accompany 
her,  but  she  waved  him  back. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  any  one  else  should 
come  with  me, ' '  she  insisted.  ' '  I  am  going  straight 
to  my  room.  Frank  will  put  me  in  a  chair.  He 
will  be  glad  to  be  released  from  this  din.  He  hates 
it,  don't  you,  dear?" 

"Can't  see  how  they  stand  so  much  of  it?"  he 
growled,  following  obediently  in  his  wife's  wake. 

Left  alone,  the  two  remaining  members  of  the 
party  felt  strangely  conscious.  They  danced  one 
dance,  and  then,  instead  of  returning  to  the  table, 
Roger  suddenly  announced: 

"I'm  tired  of  the  din,  myself.  Let's  take  a 
double  chair  and  go  over  to  the  beach.  There  is 
never  a  soul  there  at  this  hour  of  the  day." 

Nora  knew  the  course  of  wisdom.  She  knew 
that  it  was  to  stay  with  the  crowd,  or  to  go  back  to 
her  own  room.  But  she  yielded,  after  the  merest 
show  of  resistance. 

He  held  her  hand  the  whole  way  over  (she  found 
it  could  be  done  very  nicely  in  a  wheeled-chair). 

Arrived  at  the  bath-houses,  they  dismissed  the 
chair.  No  one  was  in  sight.  Roger  drew  Nora 
onto  the  deserted  porch  and  folded  her  in  his  arms. 

"You  darling,"  he  murmured,  "you  sweet 
baby,"  and,  stooping,  he  kissed  her  repeatedly 
on  her  hair,  her  eyes,  her  throat,  her  lips.  She 
lay  in  his  embrace  like  a  wild  thing  at  rest. 

Suddenly,  from  out  the  shadows  near  them,  there 


298  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

started  a  figure — the  figure  of  a  woman.  She 
stood  and  faced  them  for  a  brief  second.  They 
had  time  to  see  that  she  had  been  weeping,  and  to 
recognize  her.  It  was  Sybil  Carr.  She  could  not 
have  failed  to  see,  and  to  know,  them. 

After  the  briefest  pause,  she  walked  on  without 
a  flicker  of  recognition.  They  stood  gazing  into 
each  other's  eyes.  Nora  felt  physically  ill.  She 
couldn't  think. 

Finally,  with  a  sort  of  sob,  she  pulled  herself 
together  and  turned  towards  the  hotel.  Her 
companion  fell  into  step  with  her. 

"Don't  worry,"  he  begged.  "It's  done  and 
can't  be  helped.  Perhaps  she  didn't  recognize 
us." 

Nora  was  almost  afraid  to  trust  her  voice  and 
her  lips  were  trembling  horribly. 

"She  must  have, "  she  whispered.  "You  know 
that  she  must  have. " 

"Well,"  he  said,  "if  she  did,  we  can't  help  it 
now.  We  must  decide  what  to  do." 

After  another  long  pause,  he  asked: 

"Should  you  very  much  mind  dining  in  your 
room,  tonight?" 

"Oh,  I'd  rather.  I  want  to.  I  couldn't 
possibly  face  her." 

"There,  there,"  he  soothed  (but  he  made  no 
attempt  to  touch  her),  "that  will  be  best,  then. 
Send  your  maid  with  a  note  to  Mrs.  Carr,  saying 
that  you  are  tired  and  won't  come  down.  Don't 
telephone.  You  are  not  sure  of  your  voice  and 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  299 

you  don't  know  what  she  might  say.  Tell  her  by 
note.  And,  in  the  meantime,  I'll  see  what  I  can 
do." 

They  took  a  few  more  steps,  and  then  he 
continued : 

"I  am  quite  sure  you  have  nothing  to  fear, 
except  as  between  you  and  her.  She  will  never 
speak  of  this  to  any  one  else.  She  is  too  proud. 
Nor  will  she  seek  to  harm  you  in  any  other  way. 
She  is  the  most  generous  woman  I  have  ever 
known,  and  the  biggest.  Besides;  I  hope  I  still 
have  some  influence  with  her.  Now  promise  me 
that  you  won't  worry. " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"It  is  only  the  immediate  future  that  concerns 
me,"  he  said.  "These  next  few  weeks — they 
cannot  fail  to  be  awkward.  I  don't  suppose  you 
could  arrange  to  have  a  telegram,  calling  you 
away,  could  you?" 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  stay,"  she  almost  sobbed.  "I 
don't  know  what  I  shall  do;  I  shall  have  to  think 
it  over.  But  I  cannot  stay  with  them. " 

"Don't  worry,"  he  repeated.  "Just  keep  out 
of  sight  and  leave  things  to  me.  I'll  telephone 
you; — not  tonight;  sometime  tomorrow.  Don't 
try  to  telephone  me  and  don't  write  any  notes  at 
all, — either  to  me  or  to  any  one  else, — no  matter 
what  comes  into  your  head.  Except,  of  course, 
that  one  note  to  say  you  are  not  coming  down 
tonight.  And,  even  in  that,  explain  nothing,  make 
no  excuses,  except  that  you  are  tired. " 


300  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

They  had  reached  the  hotel  and  she  hurried 
through  the  door  and  into  the  elevator.  She  left 
Roger  Kip  with  a  more  difficult  proposition  on  his 
hands  than  he  would  have  cared  to  confess. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

SAFE  in  the  shelter  of  her  room,  and  the  note 
despatched,  Nora  gave  herself  up  to  consuming 
emotion. 

She  was  thoroughly  frightened.  In  spite  of 
Roger's  assurances,  she  was  convinced  that  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner  would  hear  of  the  affair  and  that  her 
(Nora's)  social  prospects  would  be  ruined  forever. 

"Fool,"  she  kept  repeating  to  herself,  "Oh, 
fool,  fool,  that  I  am.  No  man  is  worth  this.  Oh, 
what  can  I  do?  What  can  I  do?  What  will  hap- 
pen to  me?" 

Her  dinner-tray  was  sent  away  untouched. 
Later,  she  would  have  a  sleeping-powder;  but 
not  yet.  She  must  think. 

Thinking  didn't  seem  to  do  much  good.  She 
could  make  no  plans  until  she  knew  what  Mrs. 
Carr  was  going  to  do.  The  one  thing  that  was 
clear  to  Nora's  mind  was  that  she  could  never 
again  face  her  present  hostess. 

Of  her  own  "foolishness,"  and  "idiocy,"  and 
"bad  luck,"  she  was  hotly  denunciatory.  But  not 
once  did  she  bewail  her  duplicity,  or  ingratitude, 
or  dishonesty. 

Although  she  would  never  have  admitted  it,  she 
301 


302  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

was  no  better  than  a  common  thief.  She  had 
deliberately  pilfered  from  the  purse  of  Mrs.  Carr's 
sentiments.  While  accepting  her  hospitality, 
while  eating  her  bread  and  fawning  at  her  feet, 
Nora  had  dealt  her  the  most  dastardly  of  possible 
blows.  Of  course,  she  cried  to  herself  that  Mrs. 
Carr,  with  a  husband  of  her  own,  had  "no  right" 
to  a  lover.  Which,  of  course,  was  true.  But  what 
about  Mrs.  Prentiss? 

In  spite  of  the  opiate,  it  was  dawn  before  she 
slept.  She  awoke  about  ten  the  next  morning, 
unrefreshed  and  more  frightened  than  ever. 
Daylight  did  not  exorcize  this  spectre! 

After  a  bath  and  a  bite  of  food,  she  felt  that  she 
must  leave  the  house  and  get  into  the  outside  air. 
There"se  dressed  her  and  she  was  just  about  to 
leave  her  room,  when  a  note  was  handed  in.  It 
was  addressed  in  Mrs.  Carr's  handwriting.  Nora 
felt  faint  as  she  tore  it  open.  This  is  what  she 
read: 

MY  DEAR  MRS.  PRENTISS  : 

Mr.  Carr  has  had  news  which  will  make  it  neces- 
sary for  us  to  leave  for  Tampa  and  the  West  Coast, 
at  once.  We  are  arranging  to  have  our  car  at- 
tached to  the  train  tonight.  Of  course,  I  should 
not  be  willing  to  interfere  with  your  pleasures, 
nor  to  take  you  away  from  here.  I  trust  that 
you  will  forgive  our  deserting  you  in  this  sudden 
fashion. 

As  I  shall  be  busy  all  day,  superintending  my 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  303 

packing,  I  fear  I  shall  not  have  an  opportunity  to 
see  you  again. 

Sincerely  yours, 

SYBIL  CARR. 

Another  friend  gone!  How  they  slipped  away 
from  Nora,  and  never  through  any  fault  of  her 
own!  Well  might  she  have  said  to  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner  that  the  rarest  of  human  gifts  was  the 
ability  to  retain  friends. 

In  spite  of  the  shame  and  mortification,  she  felt 
relieved.  She  was  an  innate  moral  coward,  and 
her  greatest  horror  had  been  the  necessity  of  meet- 
ing Sybil  Carr. 

She  would  think  it  all  over,  out  of  doors.  Going 
downstairs,  she  took  a  chair  and  ordered  her  man 
to  drive  her  along  the  lake  front. 

Just  as  she  came  in  front  of  the  Beach  Club,  the 
occupant  of  a  passing  chair  caught  her  sight.  She 
sat  suddenly  upright  and  told  her  driver  to  stop. 
The  man  in  the  other  chair  was  Mr.  F.  Gallatin 
Leeds. 

She  called  to  him  and  he  turned.  At  first,  he 
eyed  her  coldly. 

"Ah,  do  stop,"  she  begged;  "I  have  been 
longing  to  see  you.  I  have  something  to  say 
to  you  and  I  thought  the  chance  would  never 
come. " 

,  "Longing  to  see  me,  eh?     Is  that  why  you  ran 
away  from  me  last  summer?" 

"But  I  didrit,"  she  cried.     "I  couldn't  help  it. 


304  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

I  could  hardly  sleep  for  disappointment.  Let  me 
tell  you  about  it!" 

As  she  talked,  his  face  cleared.  "Why  didn't 
you  write  and  explain  it  to  me?"  he  asked, 
still  a  trifle  suspiciously. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  dare,"  she  cried,  in  pretty  depre- 
cation. "  I  didn't  know  whether  you  really  meant 
it,  or  not.  Did  you  honestly  go  back?  " 

"I  certainly  did,"  he  answered,  "and  I  was 
anything  but  pleased  when  I  didn't  find  you 
there." 

Getting  out  of  his  chair,  he  bade  Nora  leave  hers, 
and  he  paid  and  dismissed  the  two  men.  Then  he 
hailed  a  double  chair  that  was  passing,  and  they 
entered  it. 

"Drive  up  the  lake,"  he  ordered  the  darky 
attendant,  "and  don't  turn  till  I  tell  you.  Do  you 
hear?" 

"Yaas  suh, "  replied  the  grinning  driver,  show- 
ing ivory  teeth  in  an  ebony  smile.  Even  amongst 
these  humble  ones  was  the  great  magnate  recog- 
nized. 

"Now,  how  am  I  to  know  that  you  are  telling 
me  the  truth?"  demanded  Mr.  Leeds,  watching 
Nora  closely.  "How  are  you  going  to  prove  it? " 

"How  can  I?"  she  parried,  "except  to  give  you 
my  word  and  my  hand?" 

He  accepted  the  latter,  at  any  rate. 

"I'll  tell  you  how,"  he  suggested,  still  retain- 
ing it.  "Are  you  so  wedded  to  this  place  that 
nothing  could  tear  you  away  from  it?" 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  305 

"I  am  rather  fond  of  it,"  she  answered,  coyly. 
"I  wouldn't  leave  it  for  most  things,  but  I  can't 
say  that  there  is  nothing  that  would  tempt  me. 
Why?" 

"We  are  here  only  in  passing,  "  he  told  her,  going 
to  the  point  at  once.  "There  is  a  small  party  of 
us — two  men  and  two  women.  My  car  is  here. 
We  are  leaving  on  it  tomorrow  for  Miami,  where 
my  yacht  is  waiting.  Then  we  shall  cruise  through 
the  West  Indies.  Will  you  come  with  us?" 

Would  she  ?     Heaven  had  opened  to  admit  her. 

Mr.  Leeds  laughed  at  her  evident  pleasure  and 
pinched  her  arm  in  its  transparent  sleeve.  He  ran 
over  the  names  of  his  party;  there  were  two 
women ;  one  was  a  divorcee,  and  the  other  still  saw 
her  husband  once  or  twice  a  year.  Both  had 
figured  in  several  scandals,  but  both  were  well- 
known  and  received  in  the  ultra-smart  set.  Mr. 
Leeds  and  one  other  man  completed  the  present 
party,  but: 

"We'll  pick  up  another  man  here,"  he  an- 
nounced, "to  even  us  up.  We  must  all  be 
provided  for,  you  know.  " 

Then  he  turned  and  looked  straight  into  Nora's 
eyes. 

"We  are  out  for  a  holiday  and  a  rest,"  he 
observed,  watching  her  narrowly,  "and  we  intend 
to  leave  all  conventions  behind  us.  All!  It  is  an 
al fresco  trip!" 

Certainly,  no  one  could  accuse  Mr.  Leeds  of  a 
lack  of  fair  play. 


306  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"How  wise  you  are, "  commented  Nora,  return- 
ing his  direct  gaze,  in  kind.  "I  can  imagine 
nothing  more  delightful!" 

He  smiled  and  nodded  his  head  in  a  quick,  odd 
way  he  had. 

"Good,"  was  all  he  said.  His  proposition  had 
been  made,  and  accepted. 

Ah,  if  Vice  were  indeed  ' '  a  monster  of  so  frightful 
a  mien,  that  to  be  hated  needed  but  to  be  seen,  " 
we  should  all  probably  be  virtuous.  But  Vice  is 
too  clever  so  to  discount  opportunity. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE  moment  she  reached  her  room,  Nora  wrote 
a  polite  note  to  Mrs.  Carr,  explaining  her  plans 
and  thanking  her  for  her  hospitality  and  "the 
pleasant  trip"  that  she  had  made  possible.  Mrs. 
Carr's  lip  curled  on  reading  the  note.  "The  exact 
place  for  her,  on  that  yacht,  I  should  think, "  she 
said  to  herself  contemptuously.  "I  have  just 
what  I  deserved.  This  comes  of  making  friend- 
ships out  of  one's  own  class." 

The  note  had  hardly  gone,  when  Nora's  tele- 
phone tinkled.  It  was  Roger,  calling  from  the 
Beach  Club.  He  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears 
when  she  explained  her  plans. 

"Why,  that's  wonderful,"  he  cried,  "perfectly 
wonderful!  You  couldn't  have  done  a  cleverer 
thing."  Then,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "Do 
you  know  Mr.  Leeds  very  well?" 

"Fairly  well,"  she  told  him. 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  know,  then,  that  you  are 
apt  to  find  rather  a  gay  party  on  board"  (she  had 
not  told  him  the  names) ;  ' '  but,  of  course,  you  are 
able  to  take  care  of  yourself.  You  won't  be  gone 
long,  will  you?" 

"Two  or  three  weeks." 
307 


308  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Let  me  know  the  moment  you  are  back  in 
New  York.  Do  you  understand?" 

"Yes,  I  understand." 

"Well,  then,  promise." 

Finally  she  promised. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  she  asked. 
"Join  the  party  to  the  West  Coast?" 

"Lord,  no.  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  when  I  see 
you.  I  shall  linger  here  for  a  few  days  and  then 
go  back  to  New  York. " 

She  wished  for  one  wild  moment  that  he  would 
be  the  additional  man  that  Mr.  Leeds  would  "pick 
up"  to  balance  his  party.  But  Roger  dashed 
such  incipient  hopes. 

"That  would  never  do,"  he  told  her.  "The 
less  you  see  of  me  for  the  next  some  weeks,  the 
better  it  will  be  for  both  of  us. " 

And  so  ended  the  Palm  Beach  episode. 

The  cruising-party  left  for  Miami  the  next 
morning,  on  Mr.  Leeds'  private  car.  They  stayed 
one  night  in  a  Miami  hotel  and  sailed  the  next 
morning  on  the  proper  tide.  Their  first  objective 
point  was  Nassau. 

There  was  very  little  time  for  retrospection,  or 
for  worry  over  what  was  past  and  over.  One 
was  never  alone — absolutely  never.  Probably  one 
of  the  reasons  that  the  leisured  classes  are  given 
to  a  very  charitable  judgment  of  the  sins  of  others, 
is  that  they  are  too  busy  over  their  own  to  spare 
the  time  for  criticism. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  309 

The  first  evening  on  board  the  Leeds  yacht 
was  a  heavenly  moonlight  night,  just  made  for 
love.  Before  it  was  well  under  way,  Nora  found 
herself  on  the  after-deck,  alone  with  her  host. 
Everyone  else  had  mysteriously  disappeared.  She 
knew  who  had  arranged  it  so. 

Mr.  Leeds  was  more  ardently  complimentary 
than  ever.  Nora  realized  that  she  must  be  the 
first  to  strike,  and  that  this  was  her  moment.  If 
she  gave  it  to  him,  she  would  never  again  recover 
it. 

She  had  always  a  queer  innate  feeling  that  her 
power  over  a  man  was  greatest  before  he  knew  her 
too  well — an  odd  uncomfortable  conviction  that 
every  man  would  eventually  find  her  disappoint- 
ing. How  she  got  it  she  could  not  have  told.  But 
it  was  very  firmly  fixed  in  the  back  of  her  brain 
and  it  irritated  her  inexpressibly. 

It  was  not  that  she  doubted  her  own  beauty. 
That  was  beyond  question.  Or  her  brain.  That, 
too,  was  entirely  satisfactory.  It  was  something 
more  subtle  than  either  of  them — something  she 
could  neither  control  nor  describe. 

She  sat  looking  out  over  the  shimmering  water. 

"How  beautiful  it  is,"  she  murmured. 

"Not  as  beautiful  as  the  lovely  woman  who  is 
watching  it, "  her  admiring  companion  assured  her. 

Suddenly  she  turned  and  faced  him,  drawing  her 
hand  from  his  clasp  as  she  did  so. 

"Mr.  Leeds,"  she  said,  "have  you  met  my 
husband,  yet?" 


3io  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"No,"  he  told  her.  "I  know  him  only  by 
reputation.  But  I  want  to  meet  him. " 

"You  must.  I  want  it  more  than  anything  else 
in  the  world. " 

"The  wishes  of  a  beautiful  woman  are  always 
laws." 

"Well,  that  is  my  wish.  It  is  not  only  that  the 
meeting  would  be  a  wonderful  thing  for  my  hus- 
band, but  I  do  not  believe  that  you  would  find  it 
a  waste  of  time.  He  is  a  very  remarkable  man. 
A  man  that  I  am  sure  could  be  useful  even  to  so 
great  a  person  as  you.  I  am  determined  that  he 
shall  have  the  exact  acquaintance  and  the  exact 
position  that  he  deserves. " 

"Such  a  wife  as  you  should  be  able  to  help  him 
to  get  it. " 
.    "Do  you  think  so?" 

"I  am  sure  of  it.  If,  indeed,  you  ar.e  sincere  in 
your  wishes  and  are  willing  to  do  your  part.  You 
know,  we  do  not  live  in  a  world  where  one  gets 
something  for  nothing. " 

"Of  course  not.  That  would  be  a  poor  bargain 
for  one  side  or  the  other. "  She  hesitated  for  a 
moment  and  then  continued: 

"I  can  assure  you  that  I  am  willing  to  do  my 
part.  But  I  am  not  a  woman  to  undervalue 
myself.  And  I  know  exactly  what  I  want." 

"There  is  always  a  way  to  get  it,"  he  told  her. 
And,  this  time,  she  did  not  withdraw  her  hand  from 
his  clasp. 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  311 

Nora  could  never  feel  that  Nassau  was  real. 
Even  in  retrospect,  that  first  visit  to  the  Tropics 
was  always  like  a  dream  to  her. 

It  was  so  different,  so  sparkling,  so  exotic! 
The  amazing  clear  blue  and  green  of  those  waters, 
lapping  the  smooth  white  strand,  never  ceased  to 
strike  her  with  wonder.  It  reminded  her  of  an 
ivory  tablet  inset  with  emeralds  and  sapphires, 
or  of  some  snowy  plumaged  bird  with  peacock 
tail  and  crest.  To  dip  in  such  waters  was  the 
apotheosis  of  bathing. 

They  were  entertained  at  Government  House, 
of  course.  Everywhere  that  Mr.  Leeds  and  his 
party  went,  they  were  the  target  for  invitations. 
And  wherever  they  were  entertained,  Nora  found 
her  host  her  ever-present  cavalier. 

Even  the  foods  were  new  to  her  palate  and 
helped  to  foster  the  impression  of  unreality.  She 
ate  sapodillas,  and  pawpaws,  and  turtle  in  every 
form.  Mr.  Leeds  loaded  his  guests  with  tortoise- 
shell  trinkets  and  with  the  pink  pearls  of  the 
island. 

In  the  perfumed  evenings,  he  and  Nora  strolled 
in  the  gardens  surrounding  the  hotel.  And  she 
listened  again  to  the  pleasing  tale  of  how  pretty 
she  was,  and  how  desirable.  Although  not  given 
to  gestures,  as  a  rule,  Mr.  Leeds  used  his  hands 
as  much  as  he  used  his  tongue,  when  compliment- 
ing a  pretty  woman  on  her  various  points. 

Of  course,  there  were  times  when  Nora  had  her- 
self to  face.  Times  when  she  restlessly  rehearsed 


312  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

the  Palm  Beach  experience  and  wondered  what 
the  outcome  would  be  for  her;  times  when  she 
thought  of  Roger  and  hated  both  him  and  herself 
as  she  pictured  his  reconciliation  with  Sybil 
Carr;  times  when  she  still  cursed  herself  for  a  fool 
and  a  weakling. 

These  were  generally  the  hours  when  she  was 
dressing  or  undressing,  or  when  she  awoke  to 
sudden  vivid  consciousness  while  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  was  still  asleep.  They  were  the  only  hours, 
in  fact,  that  she  ever  had  for  retrospection. 

After  Nassau,  they  visited  some  of  the  "Out- 
Islands"  (that  fascinating  name!),  Jamaica,  and 
Cuba.  In  Havana,  they  were  very  gay  and 
lingered  longer  than  they  had  expected.  Mr. 
Leeds  was  enjoying  this  trip  and  had  no  wish  to 
shorten  it.  Besides,  his  physicians  had  ordered 
a  rest. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

NORA  PRENTISS  returned  from  that  cruise,  a 
made  woman.  Henceforth,  there  were  no  barriers 
for  her — no  barriers  of  any  kind. 

She  had  played  her  cards  with  consummate  skill. 
She  had  never  held  herself  too  cheaply,  never  set 
too  low  a  value  on  her  smiles  and  her  complaisance. 
A  meeting  was  soon  to  be  arranged  between  Mr. 
Leeds  and  Bob,  and  Nora  knew  exactly  what  the 
outcome  of  that  meeting  was  to  be. 

Apparently,  Edith  Little  had  either  repented  of 
her  threats  of  revenge,  or  her  efforts  had  been  futile. 
Everyone  (judging  from  the  mail  that  awaited  her) 
was  prepared  to  fawn  upon  Nora  with  the  most 
flattering  eagerness.  From  now  on,  Mrs.  Robert 
Prentiss  would  be  much  more  of  a  personage  than 
Mrs.  Harry  Little.  The  latter  was  going  steadily 
down,  the  former  was  going  steadily  up.  It  was 
well  to  be  in  with  her,  and  to  be  assured  of  her 
favour. 

Regarding  Sybil  Carr,  alone,  had  Nora  any 
misgivings.  Nothing  but  time  would  show  what 
was  going  to  develop  in  that  quarter.  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner's  attitude  would  be  a  proper  indicator; 
Nora  half  longed,  and  half  dreaded,  to  meet  that 

313 


314  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

great  lady.  But  still,  she  was  disposed  to  trust  in 
her  usual  luck. 

Among  the  accumulated  letters  and  notes  on 
her  writing-table,  there  was  one  from  Roger. 
She  ran  eagerly  through  the  pile,  searching  for  it. 
It  was  the  one  sole  note  addressed  in  a  man's  hand 
(Nora  was  still  surprisingly  young  in  sentimental 
friendships).  She  pushed  all  the  other  letters 
aside  and  hastened  to  open  this  all-important  one. 

It  was  very  short  and  began  entirely  without 
address  or  preamble : 

Call  me  up  the  moment  that  you  are  home,  either 
at   my  club  or  at  my  apartment,  preferably  the 
latter,  at  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Yours,  as  always, 

R.   W.   K. 

She  would  have  to  wait  until  the  next  morning, 
with  what  patience  she  could  summon. 

She  did  not  want  to  telephone  to  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner,  although,  of  course,  she  must  not  delay 
in  letting  that  lady  know  of  her  return.  Nora 
would  run  in  on  her  tomorrow  morning.  Every- 
thing seemed  to  be  "tomorrow. " 

She  was  restless  and  unsettled.  She  ran  through 
the  remainder  of  her  mail,  and  then  made  a  visit 
to  her  nursery.  As  she  crossed  its  threshold,  the 
thought  flew  into  her  mind,  what  a  very  different 
woman  she  was  from  the  one  who  had  said  good-bye 
there,  six  weeks  ago. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  315 

The  children  were  well  and  blooming.  They 
paused  in  their  occupations  and  stood  watching 
their  pretty  mother  as  they  might  have  watched  a 
fascinating  stranger.  They  did  not  bound  towards 
her  with  caresses  and  confidences.  Why  should 
they?  They  scarcely  knew  her  except  as  the  far- 
away arbiter  of  their  destinies  and  the  lady  who 
sometimes  took  Patricia  to  church. 

The  reports  of  nurses  and  governesses  were 
entirely  satisfactory.  Master  Cyril  had  had  a 
slight  cold  and  Dr.  Barnes  had  been  called  in, 
at  once.  That  was  the  extent  of  nursery  mis- 
haps. 

Patricia  had  a  request  to  make.  Standing  a 
little  apart,  and  speaking  rather  breathlessly,  she 
made  it : 

"May  I  please  have  a  dog?  A  little  white, 
curly  dog,  to  take  awound  wiv  me?" 

"Oh,  no,"  Nora  instantly  vetoed  the  idea,  "I 
am  afraid  of  dogs"  (with  all  her  sophistication, 
she  had  still  to  discover  that  this  was  a  mark  of  her 
village  breeding). 

Patricia's  lip  quivered. 

"Mawie  Mowwis  has  one,"  she  said,  "an"  so 
has  Beatwis  Wutherford.  Their  maids  bwing 
them  to  the  dancing-class,  after  the  lesson  is  over, 
an'  we  all  play  wiv  them  in  the  dwessing-woom. 
An'  sometimes  they  have  pink  wibbons,  an'  some- 
times they  have  blue.  An'  I  would  love  one." 

This  altered  things.  Nora  had  a  low-voiced 
consultation  with  the  French  bonne. 


316  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Mais  oui,  Madame.  C'est  bien  vrai.  Toutes 
les  petites  ont  des  chiens,  "  assured  Juliette. 

That  was  a  different  matter. 

"Very  well,  Patricia,"  assented  her  mother, 
"you  may  have  your  dog.  I  will  ask  your  father 
to  get  it  for  you." 

Patricia's  face  beamed  with  joy.  Then,  after  a 
moment,  it  fell  again. 

"But  Muwer, "  she  quivered,  "Cywil  says  if  I 
have  a  dog  he  will  kick  it  and  pinch  it.  Won't 
you  tell  him  not  to?" 

' '  Certainly, ' '  said  Nora.  ' '  Cyril,  you  must  not 
do  such  naughty  things.  Do  you  hear  me?" 

"Yeth,  Mother,"  he  answered,  looking  like  a 
blonde  angel. 

After  the  door  closed  on  Nora,  he  turned  to  his 
sister. 

"I'll  kick  it  when  she  dothn't  know  about  it, " 
he  promised. 

The  day  dragged  by.  Bob  came  home  at  night 
and  he  and  Nora  dined  alone.  When  had  that 
happened  before? 

She  told  him  of  her  trip.  He  had  been  greatly 
astonished  at  the  change  in  her  plans. 

"That  was  a  queer  thing  of  the  Carrs,  to  go  off 
and  leave  you  like  that.  Didn't  they  expect  to 
stay  longer?" 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said.  "We  went  for  three  or 
four  weeks,  and  only  two  of  them  were  to  be 
spent  at  Palm  Beach.  There  was  no  change  of 


THe   Road  to  Mecca  317 

plan.  But  when  it  was  time  to  go  to  the  West 
Coast,  and  this  other  invitation  came  to  me,  they 
all  advised  me  to  accept  it,  for  my  own  sake, 
especially  when  they  heard  I  had  never  cruised 
and  never  seen  the  West  Indies.  Florida  is  all 
about  the  same,  you  know.  They  hated  to  have 
the  party  broken  up ;  but  they  thought  it  would  be 
so  much  greater  an  experience  for  me.  They 
were  very  unselfish  about  it." 

"Well,"  he  said,  "there  must  have  been  some 
sudden  change  in  their  plans  after  they  left  you. 
I  hear  that  they  came  home  almost  immediately. 
Some  of  the  men  downtown  happened  to  mention 
it.  And  they  have  sailed  for  England, — the  Carrs, 
I  mean.  You  knew  that,  I  suppose?" 

" No,"  she  admitted,  truthfully.  "No,  I  didn't. 
I  suppose  I  shall  hear  from  Mrs.  Carr,  from  the 
other  side,  and  she  will  explain  things. " 

She  had  gleaned  some  information  at  least,  and 
her  heart  was  beating  hard.  She  didn't  know,  at 
the  moment,  whether  the  news  was  good  or  bad. 
At  least,  it  would  protect  her  from  the  chance  of 
meeting  Sybil  Carr,  face  to  face,  in  New  York. 
That  was  something. 

She  and  Bob  separated  early  and  went  to  their 
rooms.  They  had  surprisingly  little  to  say  to 
each  other,  considering  the  length  of  time  they 
had  been  parted. 

The  next  morning  came  at  last,  after  the  fashion 
of  mornings.  Nora  was  awake  at  six  o'clock.  For 
one  thing,  she  had  begun  her  night  early;  for 


318  TKe  Road  to  Mecca 

another,  there  was  that  nine  o'clock  telephone-call 
to  anticipate.  She  was  surprised  at  her  own 
impatience.  What  did  it  mean? 

Nora  Prentiss  belonged  to  a  type  which,  though 
unnatural,  is  probably  less  rare  than  might  be 
imagined.  Just  as  the  professional  voluptuary 
marks  the  limit  of  one  extreme, — all  animal,  no 
mental, — so  do  women  of  Nora's  sort  mark  the 
limit  of  the  other  extreme, — all  mental,  no  physi- 
cal. The  one  type  is  as  abnormal  as  the  other  is 
subnormal.  In  Nora,  even  passion  was  mental.  It 
was  that  fact  that  mainly  differentiated  her  from 
the  average  normal  woman. 

For  her,  the  big  actual  thrills  of  life  could  never 
exist.  The  fact  exasperated  her.  She  was  always 
seeking  to  disprove  it.  Why  should  she  be  de- 
barred from  that  which  was  given  to  other 
women?  Yet  she  knew  that,  so  far  at  least,  she 
had  been. 

The  memory  of  a  kiss  could  keep  her  awake  at 
night,  thinking  and  reviewing.  The  anticipation 
of  one  could  excite  her  and  pique  her  wonder  as  to 
whether  now,  at  last,  she  might  not  really  feel. 
But  the  kiss,  itself,  inevitably  left  her  cold  and 
disappointed.  It  was  an  Apple  of  the  Dead  Sea- 
dust  and  ashes  at  her  touch. 

She  had  never  before  realized  that  nine  o'clock 
in  the  morning  was  such  a  late  hour.  And  when 
it  arrived,  she  still  waited  fifteen  minutes  more,  on 
principle.  At  9.15  precisely,  with  her  eyes  on  her 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  319 

boudoir  clock,  she  went  to  her  telephone  and  gave 
the  number  of  Roger  Kip's  apartment. 

(That  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  called 
any  man,  but  Bob,  on  the  telephone.) 

Presently  came  Roger's  voice  in  answer.  She 
thought  at  first  that  he  was  going  to  be  merely 
formal,  and  her  spirits  sank. 

After  the  inevitable  inquiries  about  her  trip, 
however,  he  asked : 

"Will  you  lunch  with  me  in  town  today?" 

As  she  hesitated,  he  amended: 

"Or,  if  you  have  an  engagement  for  today, 
what  is  the  first  day  you  can  come?" 

"I  have  no  engagement " 

"Then  you  will  come?" 

"I  was  going  to  run  in  to  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  this 
morning,  to  let  her  know  I  was  back. " 

"Very  well,  that  will  just  fit.  You'll  be  through 
with  her  by  one,  won't  you?  Meet  me  at  half- 
past  one,  at  Delmarrio's, — unless  you  would  rather 
go  somewhere  else." 

Still  she  hesitated,  and  he  continued  in  another 
tone : 

"What  is  the  matter,  Nora?  Don't  you  want 
to  see  me?" 

"I  thought,"  she  faltered,  "I  thought  you  said 
we  were  not  to  meet  for  a  while?  " 

"Well,  hasn't  it  been  a  while?  It  has  been  a 
precious  long  one  to  me.  Besides,  the  necessity 
for  that  is  all  over,  now.  Things  have  settled. 
I'll  tell  you  about  it  at  luncheon.  I  want  to  hear 


320  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

your  confessions,  too.  I'll  bet  you  have  some. 
You'll  meet  me  then,  at  one- thirty?" 

"Yes, "  she  promised,  and  he  rang  off. 

It  was  with  some  little  trepidation  that  she  sat 
in  her  car,  awaiting  the  Van  Twiner  butler's 
response  to  her  man's  ring. 

She  had  previously  visited  a  florist  and  armed 
herself  with  an  offering  of  lovely  flowers.  The 
word  came  that  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  at  home,  and 
Nora  entered  and  delivered  her  flowers  to  the 
butler. 

Presently,  he  reappeared.  Mrs.  Van  Twiner 
would  see  Mrs.  Prentiss  upstairs. 

"How  do  you  do,  my  dear?  Thank  you  for  the 
sweet  posies"  (thank  Heaven,  thank  Heaven,  it  was 
all  right!).  "I  have  been  hearing  great  stories 
about  you.  Off  on  Gallatin  Leeds'  yacht !  That's 
a  nice  tale.  Tell  me  all  about  it.  What  hap- 
pened?" 

"Oh,  we  had  a  lovely  time,"  cried  Nora,  and 
plunged  into  a  geographical  description  (which  she 
well  knew  was  not  what  the  older  woman  wanted), 
in  order  to  give  her  own  brain  more  time  to  think, 
now  that  she  knew  the  tack  it  had  to  take. 

"Yes,  yes, "  interrupted  her  hostess,  impatiently. 
"Very  nice,  very  nice,  indeed.  But  what  hap- 
pened? Didn't  you  have  rather  a  gay  time? 
Who  was  in  the  party?  You  know,  Mr.  Leeds' 
offices  as  host  are  rather  noted. "  She  was  watch- 
ing Nora  oddly. 

"Nothing  happened  as  far  as  /  was  concerned, " 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  321 

lied  Nora  blandly.  "I  was  a  little  surprised  at  a 
few  things,  dear  Mrs.  Van  Twiner;  but,  of  course, 
I  cannot  betray  Mr.  Leeds'  hospitality  by  dis- 
cussing them,  even  with  you;  you  see,  I  don't 
know  many  people  yet,  and  the  names  of  the  other 
guests  meant  nothing  to  me.  And  they  were  all 
very  sweet  to  me ;  and  really,  there  was  nothing  at 
all,  as  far  as  appearances  went.  There  were  just 
one  or  two  things  that  happened,  that  seemed 
queer  to  me  afterwards. " 

"The  old  fox, "  observed  Mrs.  Van  Twiner;  "he 
must  have  duped  you  nicely.  But  what  did  he 
ask  you  for?" 

"That  isn't  very  complimentary  to  me," 
laughed  Nora,  gayly.  "But  I'm  going  to  tell  you 
something,  in  confidence.  You'll  probably  hear 
all  about  it  soon;  but  please  never  speak  of  it  till 
you  do.  I  think  Mr.  Leeds  wants  to  make  some 
business  deal  with  my  husband;  I  imagine  Bob 
had  already  been  sounded  on  the  subject  and  had 
not  been  properly  responsive.  And  I'm  sure  Mr. 
Leeds  is  very  anxious  to  pull  it  off.  And  he  asked 
me  in  order  to  enlist  my  sympathy  and  my  influ- 
ence with  Bob.  To  be  honest  with  you,  I  have 
already  promised  them,  for  I  think  it  is  a  good 
thing.  And  this  cruise  was  my  reward.  " 

"I  see, — I  see,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  slowly. 
"Your  husband  is  already  a  big  man,  my  dear, — so 
big  that  even  Gallatin  Leeds  might  well  find  him 
useful.  But,  mark  my  words,  he'll  be  a  bigger  one 
yet,  if  he  ever  does  prove  necessary  to  Mr.  Leeds. 


322  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

The  policy  of  the  Leeds  house  is  this:  make  a 
friend  of  every  man  who  might  prove  a  dangerous 
enemy.  And,  if  he  promises  to  be  a  dangerous 
rival,  open  the  charmed  gates  and  take  him  into 
your  fold.  I  quite  see,  now,  the  object  of  your 
invitation.  And  I  congratulate  you,  in  advance. 
But  let  me  warn  you,  too,  that  Mr.  Leeds  is  a 
dangerous  man  with  women.  If  it  had  happened 
to  be  you,  instead  of  he,  who  wanted  a  favour,  I 
fear  you'd  have  had  a  sad  time  of  it  on  that  boat. " 

Nora's  brain  was  singing  in  her  ears:  "How 
clever  I  am!  How  clever  I  am!  I  honestly 
believe  I  am  the  cleverest  woman  in  the  world. " 

She  was  immediately  given  another  chance  to 
prove  it. 

"But  what  about  you  and  the  Carrs?"  asked 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner  suddenly,  having  satisfied 
herself  on  the  more  important  subject.  "What 
happened  there  ?  I  saw  Sybil  for  a  moment  before 
she  sailed.  She  just  ran  in  to  say  good-bye.  I 
couldn't  get  much  out  of  her.  But,  of  course,  I 
knew  there  was  something. " 

"What  did  she  tell  you? "  asked  Nora  guardedly. 
She  realized  instantly  that  the  fabrication  with 
which  she  had  stuffed  her  husband  could  never  be 
used  to  do  a  second  duty  here.  And  if  she  knew 
what  Mrs.  Carr  had  said,  she  could  the  better  fit 
her  own  tale  to  it.  She  did  not  want  to  be  caught 
in  contradictions. 

"She  told  me  almost  nothing,"  replied  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner.  "She  was  very  guarded — very 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  323 

noticeably  guarded.  She  said  that  you  had  re- 
ceived this  yachting  invitation  and  that  she  and 
Frank  had  been  suddenly  called  away.  They  were 
sailing  for  England  to  join  her  sister,  and  were  go- 
ing on  to  Egypt,  I  think.  She  promised  to  write 
me  very  soon.  But  not  even  Roger  Kip  came 
North  with  them.  That  was  the  most  surprising 
thing.  His  engagements  and  invitations  are 
usually  Sybil's  own.  I  have  been  wondering  if 
anything  happened  between  those  two." 

Suddenly  Nora  saw  it  all,  with  a  feeling  almost  of 
exaltation.  How  could  Mrs.  Carr  tell  what  was 
the  matter?  How  could  she  say:  "I  had  a  lover 
that  I  loved  desperately,  and  he  grew  tired  of  me 
and  looked  with  favour  on  another  woman?" 
Even  granting  that  Mrs.  Carr  was  all  that  Roger 
Kip  had  called  her, — the  biggest,  the  most  gener- 
ous, the  most  flawlessly  bred  creature  in  the  world, 
— even  if  she  were  all  that  and  more, — it  would  not 
be  generosity  that  sealed  her  lips  in  regard  to  Nora. 
It  would  be  self-interest,  pure  and  simple ;  the  mere, 
primitive,  universal,  instinct  of  self-preservation. 

What  a  fool  Nora  had  been  to  worry  herself 
almost  into  an  illness!  Why,  a  mere  baby  could 
see  this.  Granting  any  pride,  whatever,  in  the 
make-up  of  Mrs.  Carr  (and  she  was  proud  to  the 
last  degree),  she  could  certainly  never  whimper 
publicly  over  a  lost  lover.  Nora  Prentiss  could 
have  shouted  in  relief  and  triumph  as  she  realized 
•this  for  the  first  time. 

She  moulded  her  reply  on  that  last  sentence  of 


324  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner's,  "I  have  been  wondering  if 
anything  happened  between  those  two." 

"  I  have  been  wondering  too, "  said  Nora,  almost 
sadly,  "  Mrs.  Carr  did  not  seem  at  all  happy.  Her 
animation  seemed  forced.  And  two  or  three  times, 
I  saw  her  when  I  am  sure  she  had  been  crying. 
It  was  just  as  you  told  me  it  would  be.  She  and 
Mr.  Kip  were  always  together  and  I  was  paired 
with  Mr.  Carr.  And  he  didn't  seem  happy,  either. 
I  really  was  awfully  sorry  for  him.  No  one  was 
happy  in  the  whole  party,  except  me.  And  then, 
— now,  dear  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  this  may  be  only 
imagination,  but  I  thought  Mrs.  Carr's  manner  to 
me  had  changed."  (Nora  always  believed  in  a 
grain  of  truth,  and  in  being  the  first  to  tell  a  thing 
that  must  inevitably  come  out  sooner  or  later. 
Seeing  her  hostess  look  up  quickly,  she  hurried 
on.)  "There  was  some  gossip  about  them  in  the 
hotel.  I,  myself,  couldn't  help  overhearing  some 
very  unkind  things  said.  One  or  two  men  made 
slurring  remarks,  or  attempts  at  them,  even  to 
me;  of  course,  I  was  absolutely  silent.  But  I  felt 
almost  sure  that  Mrs.  Carr  had  overheard  some- 
thing and  had  wondered  if  I  had  talked!" 

"You  didn't,  of  course?"  broke  in  her  com- 
panion, rather  sharply. 

"I?  Why,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  of  course  not.  I 
did  nothing  but  protect  her.  I  never  opened  my 
lips  about  her  to  a  soul  except  to  praise  her.  And 
I  never  mentioned  their  two  names  together. " 

This  was  so  absolutely  true  that  Nora  felt  like 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  325 

the  most  virtuous  woman  in  the  world,  as  she  said 
it. 

"No,  no,"  replied  the  older  woman,  "I'm  quite 
sure  you  didn't.  I  know  that.  But  it  is  so  unlike 
Sybil  Carr  to  be  suspicious.  She  has  the  sweetest 
and  most  generous  nature  in  the  world.  I  suppose 
she  was  terribly  unhappy.  Poor  child,  poor  child ! 
She  has  sacrificed  much!  The  end  had  to  come 
sometime — it  always  does!  It  will  be  better  for 
her  eventually;  but  how  she  must  be  suffering 
now !  I  thought  she  looked  wretchedly  ill !  Mark 
my  words,  my  dear  child,  the  woman  generally 
pays  and  no  man  in  the  world  is  worth  it!  " 

(Nora's  own  words.) 

"I  shall  make  Sybil  tell  me  all  about  this  when 
she  returns, "  promised  Mrs.  Van  Twiner. 

Nora  winced,  but  wisely  held  her  tongue. 

Somewhat  later,  her  hostess  asked: 

"How  did  you  like  Roger  Kip?" 

"Oh,  I  scarcely  saw  him,"  responded  Nora. 
"He  seemed  very  pleasant,  and  we  danced  together 
now  and  then — just  when  manners  demanded  it. " 

A  momentary  thought  crossed  her  brain  of 
mentioning  innocently  that  Mr.  Kip  wanted  her 
to  lunch  with  him  some  day, —  this,  in  case  they 
should  ever  get  caught  at  it.  But  she  saw  in- 
stantly that  that  would  be  an  unwise  degree  of 
veracity.  Time  enough  to  account  for  meetings 
if  they  ever  happened  to  be  discovered. 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  had  a  big  project  on  hand, 
as  usual. 


326  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

41  I'm  coming  out  to  Beechwold  early  this  year, " 
she  said.  "And  in  May, — early  in  May, — I'm 
going  to  have  a  huge  fete  on  my  grounds  for  the 
St.  Christopher  Home.  You  must  be  my  right 
hand.  You  have  such  an  excellent  business  head. 
I  have  never  forgotten  the  way  you  filed  all  those 
cards  alphabetically,  the  day  I  brought  Enid  out. 
The  dear  child, — had  you  heard  of  her  engage- 
ment?" 

"Oh,  no,"  cried  Nora.  (Here  was  another 
chance  for  a  graceful  note  and  a  pretty  gift.) 
"To  whom?" 

"A  lovely  fellow.  Van  Rensselaer  Stewart. 
He's  awfully  young;  not  through  Princeton  yet. 
By  the  way,  he  is  a  cousin  of  Roger  Kip's.  The 
wedding  will  be  in  June,  at  Beechwold.  You  can 
see  how  full  my  hands  will  be.  This  fete  in  May 
and  the  wedding  in  June.  Don't  you  fail  me, 
whatever  you  do. " 

Nora  foresaw  a  delightful  spring  and  early 
summer.  She  left  that  house  feeling  ten  years 
younger  than  when  she  entered  it,  and  as  happy 
and  care-free  as  a  baby. 

In  any  clash,  a  small  nature  invariably  comes 
out  better  than  a  big  one.  It  can  worm  through 
holes,  and  deal  blows  in  the  back,  and  derive  satis- 
faction from  mud-slinging  and  from  making 
character  by  clever  falsehoods.  For  a  time  at 
least,  the  world,  with  a  capital  W,  certainly  puts 
a  premium  on  smallness  and  trickery. 

As    Nora's    cab    approached    Delmarrio's,    she 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  327 

grew  more  and  more  excited  and  apprehensive. 
Ah,  how  she  hoped  things  would  take  the  right 
turn! 

In  sentimental  matters,  she  still  felt  herself  to 
be  awkward  and  unskilled.  She  had  given  no 
time  to  them.  They  were  almost  as  new  to  her  as 
the  society  game,  itself,  had  been,  that  day  when 
she  first  lunched  with  Edith  Little  and  saw  the 
interior  of  Littlecrest. 

She  still  felt  at  the  mercy  of  the  tone  a  meeting 
might  take.  She  didn't  know  how  to  force  that 
tone,  nor  how  to  produce  the  one  she  wanted. 
This  new  game  would  demand  a  great  deal  of  time, 
— it  was  less  in  her  natural  line, — but  she  must 
learn  it. 

Of  one  thing  she  was  sure.  She  must  not  appear 
anxious,  nor  eager  to  please.  She  must  permit 
herself  to  be  pleased,  and  that,  only,  at  infinite 
pains.  She  must  be  a  queen,  bending  slightly,  but 
graciously,  from  her  throne  to  listen  to  the  pleas 
of  her  grovelling  subject.  That  part  might  not  be 
so  hard;  it  would  be  far  more  difficult  to  know  the 
proper  moment  and  the  proper  gradations  that 
permitted  the  gracious  queen  to  become  the 
equally  gracious  friend.  Unless,  indeed,  the  man 
took  matters  in  his  own  hands,  and  went  straight 
to  the  core  of  things,  as  Mr.  Leeds  did.  Perhaps 
they  all  did.  She  wondered. 

Roger  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  door,  and  hur- 
ried out  the  moment  he  saw  her  descending  from 
her  cab. 


328  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"How  dear  of  you  to  come, "  he  cried,  squeezing 
her  hand.  "And  how  stunning  you  look. " 

Their  table  was  reserved,  their  luncheon  ordered, 
and  their  cocktails  and  clams  were  waiting.  As 
soon  as  they  were  swallowed: 

"Now  tell  me  everything,"  she  implored. 

"Not  yet, "  he  parried,  "first  I  want  you  to  tell 
me  everything.  What  did  you  do  on  that  yacht? " 

She  repeated  the  same  old  tale  that  had  worked 
so  well  with  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  and  it  was  as  satis- 
factory to  the  man  as  it  had  been  to  the  woman. 

"You  don't  know  how  happy  you  make  me," 
he  confided  in  a  low  tone.  "Mr.  Leeds'  yachting- 
parties  are  rather  noted.  And  with  a  woman  as 
pretty  as  you,  I  hated  to  think  of  it.  I  have  been 
wild, — I  couldn't  think  of  anything  but  you, — 
I  couldn't  settle  my  mind  to  a  thing. " 

Nora's  eyes  fell,  and  she  left  a  long  minute  before 
replying. 

"But,  tell  me,"  she  finally  begged,  "what  about 
that  other  affair?  As  you  can  readily  imagine,  I 
have  been  worrying  myself  ill. " 

"You  poor  little  thing,"  he  sympathized. 
"There  was  no  necessity  for  it.  Mrs.  Carr  and 
I  had  a  long  talk  before  she  left  Palm  Beach,  and — 
well — there  was  a  complete  break."  (Nora's 
heart  jumped  with  joy,  but  she  made  an  effort  to 
look  contrite.  He  saw  and  answered  it.)  "No, " 
he  hurried  on,  "no,  don't  blame  yourself.  It  was 
coming  anyhow.  The  Carrs  have  sailed  to  join 
Mrs.  Carr's  sister  and  her  husband,  the  Duke  of 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  329 

Raneleigh  on  a  trip  to  Egypt.  ...  I  fancy 
there  is  some  important  governmental  business  on 
hand.  ...  It  is  hardly  a  thing  I  can  discuss 
but,  at  least,  I  can  tell  you  this:  there  is  nothing 
whatever  between  Mrs.  Carr  and  me,  today.  It 
is  over  forever.  And  I  am  free.  Free  to  go  to  the 
woman  I  love,  and  to  take  her  in  my  arms  and  tell 
her  that  I  love  her. " 

For  the  life  of  her,  Nora  could  not  raise  her  eyes 
to  his  insistent  ones.  She  sat  looking  at  her  plate, 
white  her  heart  beat  furiously.  It  did  not  occur 
to  her  to  ask  Mr.  Kip  whether  the  lady  of  his 
choice  was  as  free  to  listen  to  his  noble  sentiments 
as  was  he  to  declare  them. 

They  lingered  over  their  luncheon  as  long  as  they 
possibly  could.  Nora  sipped  a  liqueur  while  her 
companion  smoked.  Public  smoking  by  women 
was  not  yet  generally  condoned,  at  that  time; 
and,  had  it  been,  Nora  was  not  sufficiently  surely 
lodged  to  risk  it.  Like  everything  else,  that  would 
come  in  time. 

Several  people  had  recognized  and  greeted  them 
during  their  meal.  As  they  rose  to  go,  Roger 
observed : 

"It  will  soon  be  all  over  town  that  we  have  been 
lunching  together.  There's  no  reason  why  we 
shouldn't,  of  course;  but  a  lot  of  talk  never  helps 
anything.  We  shall  have  to  go  somewhere  else 
the  next  time"  (the  next  time!}  "and  even  then,  we 
shall  meet  people.  If  it  happens  to  be  these  same 
people,  there  will  be  some  smiles.  Would  you — 


33O  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

wouldn't  you — come  and  have  luncheon  with  me  in 
my  apartment  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  no,  "  she  cried.     "I  couldn't. " 

"Why  not?  There's  no  harm  in  it.  It's  only 
to  save  talk." 

Still  she  shook  her  head. 

"We  may  meet  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  the  next  time," 
he  said  coolly.  "Then  you'll  have  the  pleasure  of 
explaining  it  to  her. " 

"Oh,  I  couldn't  do  that,"  she  cried. 

He  smiled. 

"Well?"  he  asked. 

"No,  no,"  she  whispered. 

"You  don't  want  to  give  up  seeing  me,  and  break 
my  heart,  do  you?" 

"No,  of  course  not.  But  wait;  wait.  I'm  not 
ready  yet.  Don't  hurry  me.  Let  me  take  my 
time. " 

"Very  well,"  he  promised  with  a  smile.  Then 
in  a  lower  tone :  "  It  is  only  to  protect  you,  dearest, 
— to  save  talk  at  your  expense.  I  am  thinking 
only  of  you,  as  always. " 

As  he  left  her,  he  whispered:  "You'll  hear  from 
me." 

Nora  had  been  home  about  ten  days  when  she 
was  called  upon  to  go  through  with  a  very  disagree- 
able ordeal.  Twice,  on  returning  from  town,  she 
had  been  told  that  a  lady  had  been  there  to  see  her 
but  had  left  no  name,  and  had  said  that  she  would 
come  again.  Finally,  one  morning  about  ten 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  331 

o'clock,  before  Nora  had  left  her  room,  the  card  of 
Mrs.  Townsend  (Edith  Little's  mother)  was 
brought  up  to  her. 

"The  lady  insists  upon  seeing  you,  Madam," 
Nora's  man  told  her.  "She  says  that  if  you  can- 
not see  her  now,  she  will  call  again. " 

"Ask  her  to  come  up  here, "  said  Nora.  To  her- 
self she  thought,  "I  may  as  well  see  her  now  and 
be  done  with  it.  She  will  be  sure  to  be  persistent. " 

Mrs.  Townsend  entered.  She  looked  old  and 
fagged,  in  spite  of  her  careful  make-up. 

"How  do  you  do,  Nora?" 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Townsend?  Was  it 
you  that  I  missed  twice  last  week?  I'm  so  sorry. 
I  was  in  town  both  days. " 

"Yes, "  answered  her  guest.  "  I'm  told  you  are 
wonderfully  gay.  Have  you  heard  about  Edith?  " 

"No,"  Nora  replied. 

"She  has  been  desperately  ill, — at  death's  door, 
in  fact. " 

"Oh,  I  am  so  sorry.  Dreadfully  sorry.  Is  she 
better?  What  has  been  the  matter?" 

"Yes,  she  is  better,"  returned  Edith's  mother, 
wearily.  Then  suddenly,  she  burst  into  a  passion 
of  tears. 

"Oh,  Nora,  Nora!  Things  are  going  terribly 
with  us.  Terribly.  You  can't  imagine  it.  It 
has  been  going  on  for  months.  I  am  weary  of  the 
struggle.  For  weeks  at  a  time,  we  have  no  idea,  at 
all,  of  Harry's  whereabouts.  And  then  he  comes 
home  in  an  awful  state  of  mind  and  temper !  And 


332  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

the  only  words  that  pass  his  lips  are  the  most 
abusive  ones  you  ever  heard.  My  poor  child! 
Her  life  has  been  horrible.  I'm  sure  no  one 
could  blame  her  if  she  tried  to  amuse  herself  a  little 
and  to  forget  things.  She  did  go  too  far.  I  admit 
that.  I  begged  and  begged  her  to  give  up  drink, 
at  least.  But  I  suppose  that  she  was  trying  to 
drown  her  sorrow.  .  .  .  And  then  she  was 
taken  sick,  and  had  to  go  to  the  hospital  for  an 
operation " 

"What  was  it?"  Nora  repeated. 

"Appendicitis." 

"  Is  she  in  the  hospital  here?  " 

Mrs.  Townsend  hesitated. 

"No.  She  is  in  a  private  hospital.  Away  up 
town,  on  the  West  side."  She  gave  the  address. 
"And  now  she  is  convalescing,  just  sitting  up. 
She  looks  like  death.  But  she  is  allowed  to  see  a 
few  friends.  And  oh,  Nora,  I  want  you  to  go  and 
see  her  and  to  try  to  influence  her  for  her  own  good. 
Try  to  persuade  her  to  do  differently.  Promise  me 
that  you  will.  She  has  always  been  so  fond  of  you. 
You  could  do  more  with  her  than  any  one  else. " 

During  this  speech  of  Mrs.  Townsend,  Nora 
had  been  growing  harder  and  harder.  The  tears 
of  others  always  had  that  effect  on  her.  She  hated 
to  see  people  weep.  Noticing  her  long  silence, 
Mrs.  Townsend  repeated : 

"Promise  me,  Nora.  It  is  the  only  thing  that 
will  give  me  any  comfort. " 

"Mrs.   Townsend,"   answered   Nora,   and  her 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  333 

voice  sounded  like  a  steel  knife,  "it  would  be  use- 
less. Absolutely  useless.  I  haven't  the  least 
influence  in  the  world  over  Edith.  If  I  had,  she 
would  have  changed  her  course  long  ago.  Once, 
and  once  only,  did  I  venture  to  speak  to  her.  It 
was  about  her  conduct  at  that  Easter  Ball, — the 
time  she  was  taken  sick,  you  know,  and  you  had  to 
hurry  home.  Do  you  suppose  my  talking  had  any 
effect  on  her?  Not  one  particle.  She  went  into 
a  perfect  tantrum  and  smothered  me  with  abuse. 
She  kicked  that  door  (it  was  in  this  very  room) 
and  shrieked  like  a  maniac,  till  I  feared  my  servants 
and  my  children  would  hear  her.  I  could  do 
nothing  with  her  then,  and  I  could  do  no  more  now. 
It  would  be  useless  for  me  to  go  to  see  her,  and  it 
would  be  foolish  of  me  to  promise. " 

" Oh  Nora, "  wailed  the  poor  mother,  "don't  say 
that.  I  know  she  would  listen  to  you  now.  She 
is  so  softened  by  her  illness.  She  had  a  great 
fright  when  they  told  her  how  nearly  she  had 
died " 

"Then  why  don't  you  seize  the  moment  to 
reason  with  her?" 

"Oh,  I  have  no  control,  at  all,  over  her,  and 
never  have  had.  But  she  admires  you  so  much. 
She  always  did.  Even  in  those  Allenbury  days. 
You  are  young  and  pretty  and  she  will  listen  to  you 
now,  I  am  sure.  She  cannot  fail  to  see  how  your 
methods  have  paid,  in  your  own  case,  how  you  are 
getting  on  in  the  world,  the  friends  you  make " 

"Mrs.  Townsend,  I  tell  you  frankly,  if  I  under- 


334  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

took  to  reform  Edith,  not  only  would  it  do  no  good, 
but  neither  she  nor  I  would  get  on  in  the  world,  as 
you  describe  it.  It  would  be  like  trying  to  save 
a  drowning  man  and  getting  drowned,  yourself, 
for  your  pains." 

"And  you  won't  go?" 

Nora  shook  her  head. 

"It  would  be  worse  than  useless." 

"My  poor  child,"  wept  Mrs.  Townsend,  "my 
poor  little  wayward  Edith.  You  can't  understand 
it,  Nora.  You  are  so  calm  and  collected, — you 
never  lose  your  head.  Edith  is  terribly  impulsive. 
She  never  stops  to  think.  But  she  has  the  warm- 
est heart  in  the  world,  and  such  a  generous 
nature.  You  must  admit  that.  She  is  much  more 
generous  than  either  her  father  or  I.  I  often  tell 
him  so.  Edith  is  exactly  like  my  only  brother. 
He  was  the  most  generous,  warm-hearted  fellow 
in  the  world.  And  as  handsome  as  a  god.  He 
died  before  Edith  was  born,  but  she  reminds  me  of 
him  constantly.  Nora,  you  used  to  love  Edith, 
I'm  sure.  Don't  you  care  for  her,  at  all,  any 
more?" 

"Certainly,  I  do,  Mrs.  Townsend.  At  least,  I 
should  care  just  as  much  for  the  old  Edith,  if  I 
could  find  her. " 

"She  is  just  the  same  at  heart, "  cried  the  poor 
mother.  "Just  exactly  the  same  sweet,  loving 
nature.  But  she  is  unhappy,  and  that  has  driven 
her  to  excesses. " 

"That  is  the  trouble,"  interrupted  Nora.   "It  is 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  335 

that  awful  drinking.  If  Edith  would  only  give 
that  up. " 

"I  know.  And  that  is  just  what  I  want  you  to 
persuade  her  to  do.  She  can't  stand  it.  She 
loses  her  head.  It  is  not  that  she  drinks  more 
than  plenty  of  other  people,  but  it  affects  her 
more. " 

"Then  she  should  never  touch  it. " 

"I  know — I  know —  But,  unfortunately,  the 
love  of  it  is  in  her  blood.  That,  too,  she  inherits 
from  her  Uncle  Stephen, — young  as  he  was;  he 
was  killed  in  a  railway  accident  coming  from 
Chicago,  just  a  month  after  he  graduated  from 
Harvard;  but,  even  then,  drink  had  been  his 
curse  for  years. " 

Again  she  broke  down  and  began  to  weep. 

Nora  had  risen  to  her  feet.  She  was  as  pale  as 
a  dead  woman.  One  hand  was  at  her  throat,  as 
in  all  her  moments  of  greatest  stress.  Her  eyes 
were  staring  into  space. 

"Mrs.  Townsend, "  she  almost  gasped,  "what 
was  your  maiden-name?" 

The  elder  woman  looked  at  her  in  amazement. 

"Whitney,"  she  answered.  "Lucille  Whitney. 
Why?" 

"Nothing,"  answered  Nora,  keeping  herself 
from  reeling  by  placing  a  hand  on  the  chair  from 
which  she  had  just  risen.  "I  don't  know  why  I 
asked.  The  question  just  came  to  my  lips.  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner  has  spoken  to  me  abouc  knowing  you 
as  a  girl,  and  knowing  your  brother,  and  when 


336  THe  Road  to  Mecca  _ 

you  mentioned  him,  I  just  asked  your  name 
without  thinking " 

It  was  a  lame  explanation,  but  it  was  the  best 
she  could  do. 

Mrs.  Townsend  rose  to  her  feet  and  held  out  her 
hand. 

"Well,  Nora,  I  suppose  I  cannot  persuade  you 
against  your  will.  But  I  hope  your  heart  will 
prompt  you  to  alter  your  decision.  For  two  years, 
you  and  Edith  have  been  like  sisters.  I  cannot 
think  that  you  will  throw  her  over,  just  now  when 
she  most  needs  you.  That  would  be  too  cruel. " 

"But  I  have  no  influence  over  her.  None  at 
all, "  persisted  Nora  sadly. 

Mrs.  Townsend  bit  her  lips  in  the  effort  to 
restrain  another  flood  of  tears,  and  extended 
her  hand  in  farewell. 

After  she  was  gone,  Nora  sank  back  into  her 
chair,  wide-eyed  and  white. 

Her  aunt!  The  woman  who  had  just  left  her 
was  her  aunt!  Edith  Little  and  she  were  own 
cousins!  The  children  of  sister  and  brother! 
Half  of  their  ancestors  were  exactly  the  same ! 

She  tried  to  imagine  Edith  and  herself,  with  the 
circumstances  of  their  training  reversed.  But  it 
was  a  futile  effort.  She  soon  gave  it  up. 

Her  new  knowledge  was  a  bitter  pill.  She  had 
dreamed  of  something  grander,  and  she  had  come 
to  look  down  on  Edith's  family  from  conscious 
heights  of  superiority. 

Then  she  comforted  harself  with  a  former  speech 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  337 

of  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's.  She  had  said  that  Edith 
was  "very  well-born  on  her  mother's  side,"  and 
that  Edith's  uncle  had  been  one  of  her  own  early 
admirations.  That  meant  that  she,  Nora,  was 
the  daughter  of  one  of  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  girlhood 
beaux.  That  wasn't  so  bad!  Of  course,  Nora 
wasn't  going  to  see  Edith.  Why  should  she? 
It  could  do  no  possible  good.  And  Edith  had 
been  disgustingly  abusive  and  insulting  on  their 
last  meeting. 

She  didn't  go.  She  never  went.  She  never 
again  saw  Edith  Little  for  more  than  a  passing 
glimpse. 

Edith  went  steadily  down.  The  Littles  gave 
up  their  Maynardstown  place  and  took  an  apart- 
ment in  New  York.  They  lived  much  abroad. 
And  on  both  sides  of  the  ocean,  Edith  palpitated 
between  long  retirements  in  hospitals  and  sani- 
tariums, and  long  debauches  that  prepared  her  for 
her  next  retirement.  Her  health  was  completely 
shattered  by  her  operation  and  her  chosen  mode  of 
life.  And  Harry  Little  palpitated  not  at  all.  He 
kept  steadily,  persistently,  doggedly,  onward,  in 
his  journey  to  destruction. 

Poor  little  unhappy  Edith!  Edith,  with  her 
warm  heart  and  her  generous  impulses,  but  ruined 
by  her  fatal  flaw  of  self-indulgence  and  lightness. 
Nora  Prentiss  had  all  of  the  self-control,  all  of 
the  mentality,  that  Edith  lacked;  but  her  heart 
was  of  ice,  and  Ambition  was  her  god.  Edith's 
symbolic  flower  would  have  been  a  deep  red  rose; 


338  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

a  rose,  alas,  whose  fragrance  was  fading  and 
whose  petals  were  beginning  to  shrivel  and  to 
assume  an  ugly  purplish  hue.  A  tall  white  lily 
would  have  stood  for  Nora ;  but  a  lily  robbed  of  its 
fragrance  and  with  its  soft  petals  turned  to  stone 
— an  alabaster  lily.  The  lily  has  always  stood  for 
the  symbol  of  purity.  Why  not  of  coldness?  Is 
it  any  one's  "favourite  flower,"  I  wonder? 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE  important  meeting  between  Robert  Pren- 
tiss  and  F.  Gallatin  Leeds  soon  took  place,  and  the 
result  of  it  was  the  offer,  to  Mr.  Prentiss,  of  a 
partnership  in  the  great  house  of  Leeds  &  Co.,  the 
biggest  house  in  America  and  one  of  the  biggest 
in  the  world. 

It  was  the  pinnacle  of  business  glory.  As  Bob 
retained  his  Ohio  interests,  a  private  car  became 
necessary,  and  he  was  away  from  home  as  much  as 
he  was  at  home.  Nora  foresaw  herself  as  the 
hostess  of  private-car  parties  on  Southern  trips, 
in  winters  to  come. 

She  met  Mr.  Leeds  at  numerous  house  parties 
and  had  ample  chance  to  thank  him  for  his  kind- 
ness. As  Bob  was  never  at  the  parties,  this  task  of 
gratitude  fell  wholly  on  Nora.  And  when  she  and 
Mr.  Leeds  finally  grew  tired  of  thanking  each  other, 
Bob  still  had  his  partnership. 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  the  first  to  offer  congratu- 
lations, and  she  told  Nora  how  she  appreciated  the 
fact  that  she  had  been  given  an  inkling  of  what  was 
coming.  "So  sweet  of  you,  dear,  to  let  me  into 
the  secret." 

Roger  followed  suit.     To  both  of  these  world- 

339 


34°  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

lings  the  raison  d'etre  of  Nora's  yachting-trip  was 
satisfactorily  explained.  She  had  been  persuaded 
to  persuade  her  husband  to  take  this  step,  so 
necessary  to  the  Leeds  welfare. 

The  appalling  thing  in  life  is  that  we  can  never 
stand  still ;  if  we  do  not  go  forward,  we  go  backward ; 
if  we  do  not  grow  better,  we  grow  worse ;  if  we  do 
not  soften,  we  harden.  It  seems  to  be  a  physical, 
as  well  as  a  moral,  law;  if  we  do  not  grow  fatter, 
we  grow  thinner;  if  a  fire  does  not  get  hotter,  it 
gets  colder.  It  is  a  discouraging,  wearying,  driving, 
thought,  for  the  law  exempts  no  person  and  no 
thing. 

Nora  had  frequent  charming  luncheons  with 
Roger  Kip,  each  time  in  a  different  place,  but  never 
without  meeting — or  fearing  to  meet — some  one 
she  knew.  Finally,  there  came  a  day  when  she 
looked  out  of  the  restaurant  window  near  their 
table  and  saw  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  descending  from 
her  car.  She  entered  the  hotel,  but  Nora's  good 
angel  led  her  by  the  hand,  for  she  turned  into 
another  one  of  the  many  dining-rooms. 

That  settled  it  for  Nora,  however;  the  risk  was 
too  great.  When  one  must  do  that  which  one  is 
unwilling  to  be  seen  doing,  it  follows  that  one  is 
forced  to  do  it  secretly. 

Roger's  apartment  was  therefore  chosen  as  the 
next  luncheon  rendez-vous.  On  a  heavenly  day, 
when  April  was  melting  into  the  arms  of  May, 
Nora  drove  there  in  a  hired  car.  Casting  covert 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  341 

glances  around  her  and  drawing  her  heavy  veil 
still  closer  over  her  face,  she  hastily  ascended  the 
steps  and  rang. 

Roger  met  her  at  his  own  door  and  drew  her 
inside.  She  could  see  that  the  rooms  were  em- 
bowered in  spring  blossoms,  and  the  air  was  heavy 
and  intoxicating  with  their  perfume.  Her  host 
held  her  hand  and  gazed  into  her  eyes. 

"Nora,"  he  whispered,  "my  darling!  How 
long  I  have  been  waiting  for  this  moment!  How 
long!" 

And  then  she  was  in  his  arms  and  he  was  kissing 
her  lips. 


Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  already  at  Beechwold. 
Early  in  May,  there  began  exhaustive  preparations 
for  the  grandest  outdoor  fete  that  had  ever  been 
seen  in  that  part  of  the  country.  No  efforts  were 
spared,  and  no  money.  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  gave 
ample  proof  of  her  "executive  ability"  (which, 
when  sifted  down,  seems  to  be  the  ability  to  call 
another  person  up  on  the  telephone  and  to  make 
him  do  your  job  for  you) .  Everyone  was  kept  on 
the  keen  jump  and,  with  the  exception  of  her  own 
relations  and  Nora,  everyone  got  on  Mrs.  Van 
Twiner's  nerves  before  the  affair  was  well  under 
way. 

Nora  was  her  right  hand.  She  was  so  quiet,  and 
soothing,  and  clever,  and  resourceful. 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  anxious,  for  once  in  her 


342  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

life,  to  please  the  "rabble,"  by  which  term  she 
designated  all  those  persons  not  on  her  visiting 
list.  She  well  knew  that  that  same  rabble  would 
be  her  chief  source  of  income.  She  was  sure  (a 
long  experience  had  engendered  the  belief)  that 
they  would  pay  almost  any  price  for  the  mere 
privilege  of  being  near  the  elite,  entering  their 
homes,  and  obtaining  intimate  souvenirs  of  them. 

For  that  reason,  she  had  decided  to  have  picture 
postcards  taken  of  Beechwold;  the  grounds,  the 
exterior  of  the  house,  and  various  interior  views. 
And,  in  order  that  these  might  have  the  personal 
touch  and  thus  be  enabled  to  sell  for  five  dollars 
apiece,  she  was  going  to  have  Miss  Benton  and 
several  other  hirelings  write  upon  them  the  favour- 
ite sentiments  of  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  special 
friends.  A  pretty  idea! 

Nora  had  just  left  the  house,  one  late  afternoon, 
after  a  long  seance  of  preparation  and  discussion 
of  plans.  She  was  entering  her  car,  before  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner  suddenly  remembered  that  she  had  not 
broached  the  postcard  scheme  to  her.  Turning 
to  her  niece,  Enid,  the  little  newly-made  fiancee,  she 
said: 

"Oh,  Enid,  run  after  Mrs.  Prentiss  and  tell  her 
about  my  postcards.  You  know  the  sentiments 
we  have  already  collected.  And  ask  her  to  bring 
me  hers,  tomorrow  morning,  plainly  written,  so  as 
to  avoid  mistakes. " 

"Yes,  Aunt  Virginia,"  answered  the  girl,  and 
hurried  to  the  door  to  waylay  Nora. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  343 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Prentiss, "  she  called,  "could  you 
stop  just  a  moment?  There  is  something  Aunt 
Virginia  forgot  to  mention  to  you. "  She  outlined 
the  scheme  and  then  continued:  "She  takes  it  for 
granted  that  you  have  a  favourite  sentiment,  and 
wants  you  to  copy  it  out  carefully,  to  avoid  mis- 
takes, and  to  bring  it  to  her  tomorrow. " 

"Of  course  I  will,  "  promised  Nora,  with  dismay 
in  her  heart.  "Tell  your  aunt  that  I  think  it  is  a 
charming  idea.  What  has  she  collected  already? 
Tell  me  a  few  of  them." 

"Well,  Aunt  Virginia  is  always  quoting  a  pro- 
verb of  which  her  mother — my  grandmother,  you 
know, — was  very  fond:  'Judge  not  your  friend  by 
his  actions,  but  his  actions  by  your  friend. '  She 
is  going  to  use  that  for  hers.  Of  course,  they 
won't  be  signed  with  any  one's  name,  but  the 
woman  who  sells  them  is  to  have  a  little  pass-book 
and  to  be  able  to  tell  Aunt  Virginia's  'rabble'  who 
it  was  that  contributed  the  various  mottoes. 
Dear  Airs.  Carr, — you  know  her,  Mrs.  Frank  Carr? 
The  great  beauty  ? — Well,  Aunt  Virginia  happened 
to  remember  one  of  her  favourite  sentences,  which 
she  thinks  is  very  typical:  'What  I  save,  I  have; 
what  I  spend,  I  lose;  what  I  give,  I  keep. '  That  is 
just  like  Mrs.  Carr, — she  is  so  generous,  you  know- 
And  Aunt  Virginia  laughs  at  mine  and  says  it  is 
just  like  a  girl  in  love ;  but  really,  it  has  always  been 
one  of  my  chief  favourites:  'God's  in  His  heaven; 
All's  right  in  the  world.'  You'll  bring  one  to- 
morrow, won't  you?" 


344  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Indeed,  I  will,  "  smiled  Nora. 

For  two  hours  that  night,  hours  that  should  have 
been  spent  in  beauty-sleep,  she  pored  over  a  book 
of  quotations  that  she  had  carried  up  from  the 
library.  Finally,  she  settled  on  one  that  she  hoped 
might  do. 

"To  thine  own  self  be  true;  and  it  must  follow, 
as  the  night  the  day,  thou  canst  not,  then,  be  false 
to  any  man. " 

It  "did"  beautifully;  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  thought 
it  "perfectly  sweet.  And  so  typical." 

The  day  of  the  fete  was  blessed  by  the  gods. 
The  weather  was  perfection,  hordes  of  guests 
attended,  and  more  than  four  thousand  dollars 
were  cleared  for  St.  Christopher's  Home. 

Nora's  babes  were  there,  attended  by  their 
English  head-nurse  and  by  Juliette,  their  bonne. 
Nora  had  still  another  chance  to  prove  to  Mr. 
Wilde  her  devotion  as  a  mother.  She  greeted  her 
children  with  kisses,  took  them  by  the  hand  and 
led  them  from  table  to  table,  bought  them  all 
sorts  of  trinkets,  and  finally  sent  them  into  the 
Punch  and  Judy  show  in  the  charge  of  their 
nurses. 

Among  the  chief  drawing-cards  of  the  affair 
were  two  professional  palmists,  a  man  and  a  woman. 
They  were  swarthy,  Oriental-looking  foreigners, 
picturesquely  garbed,  and  their  booths  were 
haunted  all  afternoon.  It  was  quite  late  when 
Nora  allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded  to  consult 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  345 

them.  The  man  was  busy  and  she  had  to  content 
herself  with  the  woman's  skill. 

In  the  last  few  moments  something  had  hap- 
pened to  irritate  Nora, — a  disagreeable  experience 
with  a  social  pusher, — and  she  entered  the  booth 
in  an  unpleasant  frame  of  mind. 

"Give  me  as  much  of  your  trash  as  that  will 
buy,"  she  ordered,  tossing  down  a  ten-dollar  bill. 

(Nora  had  learned  one  of  the  tricks  of  Society, — 
to  treat  inferiors  as  though  they  were  mere 
atmosphere.  Another  of  its  tricks  she  had  yet 
to  acquire — not  to  waste  ten-dollar  bills  in  a  way 
that  no  one  could  possibly  know  about.) 

The  palmist  darted  her  an  odd  look.  "Be 
seated,  my  lady,"  she  begged. 

She,  herself,  dropped  onto  a  pile  of  cushions,  and, 
taking  Nora's  arm,  ran  her  fingers  lightly  up  and 
down  it,  from  finger-tips  to  elbow. 

"My  lady  has  a  delicate  skin, "  she  chanted  in  a 
singsong  tone;  "it  is  the  skin  of  good  blood.  She 
has  had  fine  ancestors;  and,  perhaps,  from  the 
bones  of  the  hand,  some  that  were  not  so  fine." 

"I  did  not  come  here  for  history,"  interrupted 
Nora,  tartly.  "Tell  me  my  character  and  my 
future " 

"Yes,  my  lady,  all  in  good  time.  The  head-line 
is  strong,  and  sharp,  and  firm.  It  is  a  head  that 
will  always  command.  There  are  no  nerve-marks 
in  the  hand;  nerves  will  never  trouble  my  lady, 
nor  will  sentiment.  The  heart  will  never  run  away 
with  the  head,  nor  will  it  ever  interfere.  My 


346  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

lady's  success  will  lie  in  her  head,  rather  than  in  her 
heart.  The  logic-joint  is  long,  the  impulse-joint 
is  short.  Spread  the  fingers,  a  bit,  please, — so. 
Ah,  yes,  it  is  not  a  generous  hand;  it  flings  its 
bills,"  (she  glanced  at  the  money  Nora  had 
tossed  down),  "at  the  dictates  of  the  head,  not  of 
the  heart.  I  do  not  find  great  independence  either 
of  thought  or  of  conduct;  in  spite  of  the  strong 
head-line,  my  lady  will  generally  be  the  last  to 
think  a  thing  rather  than  the  first.  The  mound  of 
Jupiter  is  very  high;  it  is  a  hand  of  ambition,  and 
of  the  ability  to  satisfy  it.  The  luck-line,  ah, 
that  is  not  so  good. " 

"You  mean,  I  have  no  luck?" 

"No,  my  lady,  I  do  not  mean  that.  Luck  you 
have,  in  plenty.  But  it  is  in  the  hand  of  birth, 
rather  than  in  the  hand  of  development.  Natural 
luck  is  being  wasted.  And,  in  the  hand  of  develop- 
ment, the  luck  is  killed  by  both  head  and  heart." 

"What  about  money?"  asked  Nora. 

11  That,  my  lady  will  have  in  abundance,  both 
now  and  always.  Troubles  I  see  in  plenty,  but 
not  of  the  purse.  Beware  of  long  journeys!  My 
lady  will  never  take  a  long  journey  that  she  will 
not  regret,  some  time  before  she  dies. " 

"Am  I  to  be  drowned,  or  killed  on  land?" 
laughed  Nora,  disagreeably. 

"Neither,  my  lady.  There  was  once,  long  ago, 
an  accident  by  land  that  had  great  effect  on  my 
lady's  fate, " — (Nora  started  involuntarily,  and  the 
woman  saw  that  she  had  made  a  hit)  "great  effect 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  347 

forever.  But  none  will  happen  to  my  lady  herself. 
I  hope,  I  greatly  hope,  that  my  lady  may  not  live 
to  pray  for  such  an  accident. " 

Nora  left  the  booth  in  disgust.  As  she  emerged, 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  pretty  niece  ran  up,  her  fiance 
in  tow. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Prentiss,  I  have  been  looking  for  you 
everywhere.  I  want  to  present  Mr.  Stewart,  if 
I  may.  Van,  this  is  one  of  my  very  best  friends, 
and  we  are  going  to  see  a  lot  of  her. " 

"Indeed,  I  hope  so,"  laughed  the  good-looking 
boy.  "Have  you  been  tempting  the  Fates  in  this 
booth,  Mrs.  Prentiss?  How  was  it?" 

"Trash,  perfect  trash,"  Nora  assured  him. 
"Whisper  it  low,  for  we  mustn't  interfere  with 
trade.  But  she  didn't  tell  me  one  true  thing, 
all  the  while  I  was  in  there. " 

Enid's  wedding-day  was  set  for  the  first  week  in 
June.  Nora  being  one  of  the  bride's  "best 
friends, "  and  Roger  Kip  being  the  groom's  cousin, 
they  two  met  at  all  the  wedding-festivities,  pre- 
paratory and  actual.  When  the  little  bride  was 
about  to  leave,  she  drew  Nora  to  one  side  and  aid : 

"You'll  look  after  Aunt  Virginia  when  I  am  gone 
and  keep  her  from  being  lonely,  won't  you,  Mrs. 
Prentiss?  She  is  so  devoted  to  you. " 

"Indeed  I  will,"  promised  Nora,  "while  I  am 
here.  You  know,  though,  I  am  going  to  Europe 
myself,  this  summer"  (Europe  was  the  destina- 
tion of  the  honeymooners). 


348  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Oh,  yes,  later.  But  Aunt  Virginia  will  be  in 
Southampton  by  then.  It  is  just  these  next  few 
weeks  that  I  fear — the  let-down  after  all  this 
excitement. " 

"Yes,  I  know.  You  may  rely  upon  me,  dear. 
I  won't  let  her  get  lonely. " 

J_' Isn't  she  the  sweetest   thing?"   young   Mrs. 
Stewart  asked  her  husband,  as  they  drove  away. 

The  Sunday  after  the  wedding,  Mr.  Wilde's 
place,  at  St.  Michael's,  was  filled  by  a  tall  gaunt 
stranger.  Considering  the  congregation  he  was 
to  address,  this  man  chose  a  peculiar  text  for  his 
sermon.  It  was  this : 

"And  the  devil  taketh  Him  up  into  an  exceeding 
high  mountain,  and  sheweth  Him  all  the  kingdoms 
of  the  world  and  the  glory  of  them. 

"And  saith  unto  Him,  all  these  things  will  I 
give  thee,  if  thou  wilt  fall  down  and  worship  me. 

"Then  saith  Jesus  unto  him,  'Get  thee  hence, 
Satan;  for  it  is  written,  thou  shalt  worship  the 
Lord,  thy  God,  and  Him  only  shalt  thou  serve. ' ' 

"What  a  horrid  sermon,"  complained  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner  to  Nora,  as  they  left  the  church  to- 
gether.. "Wretched;  most  unpleasant.  I  must 
speak  to  Mr.  Wilde  and  tell  him  to  see  that  we  do 
not  have  that  man  again. " 

Nora  smiled.  "I  am  going  to  make  a  dreadful 
confession,"  she  whispered.  "I  never  heard  a 
word  of  it.  I  was  asleep  the  entire  time.  I  was 
awfully  tired,  and  I  didn't  like  that  man's  looks. " 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

IT  was  Europe  again  for  Nora,  that  summer. 
Europe,  with  her  children,  but  without  Bob.  He 
was  too  busy  to  accompany  them,  but  would  run 
over  later,  to  bring  them  home. 

Nora  wanted  the  children  to  be  where  they 
would  hear  nothing  but  French.  She  was  going  to 
take  a  house  in  France,  and  fill  it  with  French 
servants.  Here  the  children  were  to  stay,  and  it 
was  also  to  be  her  own  pied  a  terre;  but  she  would  be 
running  off  constantly  on  trips.  She  had  numer- 
ous invitations,  both  to  join  friends  who  were 
travelling,  and  to  stay  with  those  who  had  taken 
places.  By  a  singular  coincidence,  Roger  Kip 
was  also  to  spend  the  summer  abroad. 

They  did  not  cross  by  the  same  boat.  That 
would  have  been  indiscreet.  She  preceded  him  by 
about  ten  days. 

Nora  never  forgot  that  trip.  For  one  thing,  her 
children  were  useful  to  her  for  the  first  time  in  their 
lives. 

On  the  boat,  her  attention  was  immediately 
attracted  by  a  wonderful-looking  creature — a 
woman  who  appeared  to  be  in  the  early  thirties. 
She  was  beautiful  and  noticeable  in  the  way  that 

349 


350  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

some  great  actress  or  some  singer  in  Grand  Opera 
is  noticeable;  everything  about  her  was  unusual. 
She  was  easily  the  most  gazed-at  person  on  the 
boat.  She  kept  herself  studiously  aloof  from 
everyone,  with  a  hauteur  and  an  unresponsiveness 
that  made  her  entirely  unapproachable.  She 
was  sedulously  guarded  and  waited  upon  by  her 
two  servants,  a  maid  and  a  man. 

Now,  Nora's  journey  along  the  Road  had  made 
one  thing  clear  to  her  mind :  the  persons  who  were 
anxious  to  meet  her  were  never  the  ones  she 
wanted  to  meet,  nor  the  ones  who  would  prove 
useful.  But  the  ones  who  held  themselves  apart, 
as  something  too  sacred  to  be  profaned  by  the 
rabble,  those  were  the  ones  on  whom  she  must 
fawn,  and  whose  favour  she  must  purchase  by  hook 
or  by  crook. 

She  never  had  a  harder  subject  than  the  woman 
on  that  ocean  liner.  Even  the  maid  was  difficult 
of  approach;  Therese  did  finally  manage  to  glean 
the  information  that  the  name  of  the  haughty 
beauty  was  Madame  Stefanovitch,  but  that  was  as 
far  as  Nora  could  get  for  quite  a  while. 

Madame  appeared  in  gorgeous  dinner-apparel 
every  evening;  she  was  folded  by  her  maid  into 
wraps  that  would  beggar  description;  she  flashed 
with  gems  that  would  form  a  king's  ransom;  but, 
by  her  own  evident  desire,  she  spoke  to  no  one 
but  her  servants. 

Her  maid  grew  more  communicative,  as  time 
went  on.  Therese  came  with  wonder-tales. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  351 

Orchids  were  stored  on  ice,  below,  for  Madame,  so 
that  she  might  have  fresh  ones  every  day,  (she 
had  them);  they  were  her  favourite  flower.  At 
her  own  castle,  the  orchid-houses  covered  three 
acres  of  ground.  Madame  was  a  widow  and  but 
recently  affianced  for  the  second  time;  her  future 
husband,  Prince  Czenyha,  would  meet  her  on  the 
other  side.  There  was  a  safe,  in  Madame's  state- 
room, to  hold  her  jewels,  and,  under  her  clothes, 
she  wore  always  a  yard  of  pearls,  each  as  large  as 
a  hazel-nut,  which  the  Prince  had  been  years  in 
collecting. 

Now,  what  about  Maynardstown,  and  New 
York  restaurants,  and  even  Beechwold  and 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner?  With  the  possible  exception 
of  the  last-named,  they  looked  about  as  big  as  a 
piece  of  soap. 

Nora  hardly  gave  herself  time  to  eat  or  sleep, 
so  greatly  did  she  fear  missing  an  opportunity. 
Once,  she  had  the  good  luck  to  pick  up  a  yellow- 
back French  novel  that  Madame  had  been  reading 
and  had  left  in  her  chair. 

"Did  you  forget  this?"  she  asked,  presenting  it, 
with  a  charming  smile. 

Madame  stared  at  her  as  one  might  stare  at  a 
filthy  beggar  that  dares  to  address  one. 

"Thank  you,"  she  drawled,  distantly,  with  just 
a  trace  of  an  accent  and  with  not  the  slightest 
attempt  to  relieve  Nora  of  her  burden,  "I  was 
about  to  send  my  maid  to  fetch  it, "  and  she  walked 
off,  leaving  Nora  with  the  book  in  her  hand.  She 


352  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

had  no  choice  but  to  return    it  to  the  vacant 
chair. 

(Later,  Therese  told  her  that  Madame,  herself, 
never  carried  "as  much  as  a  book  or  a  mouchoir. 
Always  her  maid  must  follow  with  them. ") 

One  day,  Nora  was  sitting  in  her  deck-chair, 
scheming  and  planning,  but  all  to  very  unsatis- 
factory ends.  She  could  not  think  of  a  way  to 
force  a  meeting. 

Suddenly  she  saw  approaching,  Madame  Ste- 
fanovitch,  followed  by  her  maid  and  her  man. 
Without  a  glance  round  her,  Madame  sank  into  a 
chair  next  Nora's.  Her  man  tucked  her  in  with 
the  rugs  he  had  been  carrying  and  immediately 
disappeared.  The  maid  opened,  and  handed  to 
her  mistress,  a  gold-bound  and  jewel-set  writing- 
case.  This  she  unlocked  with  a  small  gold  key, 
and  arranged  coroneted  stationery  in  readiness 
for  use.  She  extricated  a  pen-handle  with  a  huge 
pearl  set  in  its  end,  dipped  the  pen  in  the  ink,  handed 
it  to  her  mistress,  and  withdrew  to  a  discreet  dis- 
tance whence  she  could  see  her  lady's  signals. 

In  moving  her  head  to  watch  the  promenaders 
on  the  deck,  Nora  could,  from  the  tail  of  her  eye, 
see  the  operations  of  her  neighbour.  In  a  dashing 
scrawling  hand  that  could  be  read  at  a  distance 
of  several  yards,  an  envelope  was  being  addressed 
to: 

F.  GALLATIN  LEEDS,  Eso. 
27  Wall  St., 

New  York  City. 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  353 

and  at  the  head  of  the  accompanying  sheet  of 
paper,  Nora  read  the  words:  "Cher  Vieux  Cam- 
arade. " 

The  effort  of  so  much  writing  appeared  to  fatigue 
milady.  She  sat  for  a  few  moments  gazing  at  the 
water,  then  beckoned  her  maid. 

"Take  these  things,"  she  commanded,  "I  am 
not  inclined  to  write,  today." 

Now  was  Nora's  curiosity  more  consuming  than 
ever.  They  were  more  than  half-way  across  and 
she  saw  no  light  in  her  darkness. 

She  couldn't  go  to  Madame  Stefanovitch  and 
say:  "I,  too,  am  a  friend  of  Mr.  Leeds."  It 
wouldn't  do  any  good,  and,  besides,  she  wasn't 
supposed  to  have  seen  that  letter. 

Her  children  solved  her  problem.  Everyone 
on  the  boat  petted  and  made  much  of  them  and, 
the  next  day,  Nora  came  on  deck  to  find  Madame 
Stefanovitch  chatting  gaily  in  French  with  them, 
admiring  Patricia's  doll,  lifting  Cyril's  golden 
locks  from  his  forehead,  asking  them  their  ages, 
and  so  on.  She  was  as  charming  and  gracious  with 
these  pretty  babies  as  she  was  forbidding  with 
everyone  else. 

Seeing  Nora's  approach,  the  children  greeted 
her  with  waves  of  their  hands.  "  Cest  ma  mere  qui 
vient,"  explained  Patricia. 

And,  wonder  of  wonders,  Madame  lingered 
to  congratulate  Nora  on  her  beautiful  off- 
spring. And,  the  touchstone  found,  she  lin- 
23 


354  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

gered  even  longer.  She  quite  unbent.  She  was 
charming. 

Not  even  yet,  could  Nora  get  off  her  little  speech, 
"I,  too,  am  a  friend  of  Mr.  Leeds,"  for  not  even 
yet  was  she  supposed  to  have  seen  that  letter. 

Finally,  Madame,  herself,  made  it  possible. 
"A  frriend  of  mine,  in  New  York,"  she  said,  "a 
Mr.  Leeds,  particularly  rrecommended  the  serrvice 
on  this  boat.  Do  you  think  it  is  so  wonderful, 
then?" 

Nora  let  the  question  go  unanswered.  "Mr. 
Leeds?"  she  cried.  "But  how  odd.  I,  too,  am  a 
friend  of  Mr.  Leeds." 

"Indeed?"  smiled  Madame.  "Isn't  he  jol- 
ly?" (She  pronounced  it  "jaw-lee,"  with  the 
prettiest  possible  softening  of  the"j"  and  roll  of 
the"!.") 

Some  time  later,  Madame  mentioned  having  been 
in  Havana  the  previous  winter.  "I  love  the 
climate,"  she  said,  "and  the  rracing. " 

"Why,  I  was  in  Havana  last  winter,"  cried 
Nora,  "I  was  on  Mr.  Leeds  yacht. " 

"Rreally?"  questioned  Madame,  without  in- 
terest. "It  could  not  have  been  at  the  same 
time,  or  we  should  have  met. " 

During  the  remainder  of  the  trip,  they  were 
much  together, — Nora  saw  to  that.  Madame 
made  no  advances,  but  she  permitted  them.  She 
talked  fluently,  but  never  of  herself,  nor  of  her 
plans,  nor  of  persons,  at'  all;  always  of  places 
and  of  things.  Nora,  on  the  contrary,  talked  of 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  355 

nothing  but  people,  and  told  her  own  plans  in 
detail.  But  she  did  it  gracefully,  and  Madame 
found  her  quite  entertaining. 

Nora's  gift  was  with  women.  Men  were  at- 
tracted by  her  beauty,  and  youth,  and  freshness. 
But,  in  all  her  life,  she  never  held  any  man  long; 
and  her  own  interest  was  awakened  far  more  by 
women,  taken  as  a  class,  than  by  men. 

She  mourned  when  the  voyage  was  over.  She 
gave  Madame  Stefanovitch  every  opportunity  to 
suggest  future  meetings,  but  with  no  result. 
Every  lead  was  passed  by  with  a  smile.  Evidently 
the  parting  was  to  be  a  permanent  one.  Nora 
didn't  even  see  the  titled  fiance  when  he  came  to 
meet  the  boat. 

She,  herself,  was  soon  busy  getting  settled  in  the 
house  she  had  taken  for  the  children.  It  had  been 
rented  in  advance,  and  some  of  Juliette's  relatives 
were  already  installed  there  as  servants.  The 
children  were  to  have  dogs,  and  ponies,  and  a 
lovely  time  generally. 

But,  Roger's  arrival  made  an  awkward  situation. 
He  could  not  stay  at  the  house  Nora  had  taken, 
because  the  children  were  now  so  big  they  would 
be  sure  to  notice  things  and  to  talk  about  them. 
And,  yet,  except  for  the  children,  Nora  would 
have  had  no  excuse  for  taking  a  house  in  France. 
And  Bob  had  absolutely  refused  to  permit  them 
to  spend  the  entire  summer  in  hotels,  or  to  be  left 
alone  in  a  pension. 

Nor  could  Nora  and  Roger  go  off  on  trips  to- 


356  TKe  Road  to  Mecca 

gather,  and  run  the  risk  of  meeting  acquaintances. 
It  was  very  trying ! 

The  best  plan  seemed  to  be  to  tear  the  children 
up  by  the  roots  again,  in  order  to  give  them  sea  air 
at  a  French  watering-place.  Then  Roger  could 
stay  at  one  hotel  and  Nora  at  another.  They 
could  meet  in  crowds  (and  out  of  them)  and  all 
would  be  well.  And  this,  in  effect,  is  what  they 
did. 

The  first  thing  Nora  noticed,  was  a  change  in 
Roger.  He  was  growing  irritable.  For  a  time, 
all  would  go  well;  and  then,  at  the  veriest  trifle — 
some  ordinary  speech  of  Nora's — he  would  seem 
to  contain  himself  with  difficulty. 

Roger  Kip  was  a  fastidious  man.  All  his  life, 
he  had  been  accustomed  to  seeing  others  grovel 
to  him;  never  once,  in  his  whole  existence,  had  he 
grovelled  in  turn;  never  had  he  stopped  to  worry 
about  what  others  were  thinking,  or  saying,  or 
doing.  Nora  had  attracted  him  as  a  lovely  un- 
sophisticated child;  a  child  on  whom  the  gods 
had  suddenly  showered  unexpected  gifts,  at  which 
she  still  looked  with  wondering  eyes;  a  child  who 
had  wept  because  she  had  been  forced  to  bare  too 
much  of  her  pretty  neck ;  a  child  who  had  trembled 
with  actual  virginal  surprise  at  his  hot  kisses;  a 
child,  he  was  sure,  whose  depths  of  passion  waited 
yet  for  their  first  awakener.  And  that  role  was 
the  agreeable  one  which  he  had  chosen  to  assume. 

His  first  unpleasant  shock  had  been  to  see  Nora's 
attitude  toward  Mrs.  Van  Twiner.  At  first,  he 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  357 

thought  he  must  have  imagined  it,  so  unaccus- 
tomed was  he  to  such  behaviour  amongst  his 
chosen  friends  and  associates.  He  had  often  seen 
it,  of  course,  but  only  as  one  who  sits  on  a  height 
and  watches  worms  vainly  endeavouring  to  scale 
its  sides.  One  wouldn't  expect  to  make  friends  of 
the  worms! 

But,  gradually,  the  disagreeable  truth  was  thrust 
upon  him  that  that  was  Nora  Prentiss's  natural 
attitude  towards  women  in  Airs.  Van  Twiner's  set. 
She  acted  "like  a  chambermaid." 

So  now.  The  uppermost  thought  in  her  mind 
was  Madame  Stefanovitch.  Had  Roger  ever 
heard  of  her? 

"Never  in  my  life,"  he  answered,  shortly. 
"And  I  can't  see,  Nora,  how  you  permit  yourself 
to  get  so  intimate  with  strangers,  on  such  short 
acquaintance." 

"That's  because  you've  never  seen  her,"  Nora 
assured  him,  coldly.  "She  is  wonderful.  Such 
jewels,  and  clothes,  and  orchids,  you  can't  im- 
agine." 

"I  don't  make  my  friends  by  such  standards. " 

"Well,  her  manners,  then.  They  were  the 
most  distant  self-contained  things  in  the  world. 
She  was  very  reticent. " 

"She  must  have  been,  to  tell  you  all  about  her 
fiance,  and  her  castle,  and  orchid-houses " 

"She  didn't. tell  me." 

"Who  did,  then,  if  no  one  else  knew  her?" 

"Her  maid  told  Therese." 


358  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

He  simply  stared  at  her;  then: 

"Servants'  gossip!"  he  shrugged,  contemp- 
tuously. 

"She  is  a  friend  of  Mr.  Leeds, "  challenged  Nora. 

"High  praise!" 

"Well,  no  one  you  ever  saw  could  be  more 
high  and  mighty  and  more  unwilling  to  meet 
people — " 

"In. that  case,  who  made  all  the  advances? 
You?" 

"Certainly  not,"  and  she  bit  her  lip,  on  seeing 
she  had  betrayed  herself. 

It  was  not  all  like  this,  of  course.  Only  occa- 
sionally. They  still  had  their  thrills,  and  their 
tremors,  and  their  hours  of  calm  content.  But 
the  wedge  was  in. 

After  a  fortnight  of  intermittent  bliss,  Roger 
suddenly  asked  her  one  day,  as  they  sat  at  tea: 

"Would  you  very  much  mind,  Nora,  if  I  ran 
off  to  the  de  Grasset's  for  a  bit?  I  always  make 
them  a  little  visit  when  I  am  over  here." 

The  Comte  de  Grasset  was  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's 
son-in-law.  Agnes  Van  Twiner  had  changed  her 
surname,  inserted  an  accent  grave,  in  her  Christian 
name,  and  become  Agnes,  Comtesse  de  Crasset, 
one  of  the  greatest  mondaines  in  France. 

It  had  been  a  terrible  disappointment  to  Nora 
that  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  had  not  given  her  letters 
to  the  de  Grassets.  Had  she  known  the  truth, 
she  would  have  realized  that  that  lady  took  no 
liberties  with  her  exacting  daughter. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  359 

Nora  not  replying,  Roger  glanced  up  from  his 
tea-cup. 

"I  think  it  is  odd,"  she  finally  complained, 
"that  you  should  care  to  go  to  a  house  where  I  do 
not  know  the  people. " 

He  foresaw  another  of  the  encounters  that  he 
so  detested. 

"But,  Nora,"  he  explained,  "the  de  Grassets 
are  old  friends  of  mine.  For  years,  I  have  stayed 
with  them,  whenever  I  am  on  this  side. " 

"Then  why  can't  you  arrange  for  me  to  meet 
them?" 

"How  can  I?  They  wouldn't  come  here  if  I 
invited  them.  And  you  could  hardly  expect  me 
to  ask  permission  to  bring  you  to  their  house  as 
my  friend.  If  you  wanted  to  know  them,  why 
didn't  you  get  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  to  arrange  it?" 

"I  gave  her  every  opportunity,"  she  said. 

("I'll  bet  you,  you  did,"  thought  the  man  to 
himself.) 

They  wrangled  over  the  subject,  off  and  on,  for 
some  days.  It  was  very  much  like  that  fight  of 
Edith's  with  Billy  Payson,  a  year  ago,  at  Narragan- 
sett  Pier.  Nora  had  then  curled  scornful  lips  of 
contempt.  Now,  she  was  playing  the  Edith-role. 
Such  is  the  miserable  effect  of  getting  entangled 
in  a  sentimental  affair. 

It  ended  in  Roger's  going  to  the  de  Grassets  and 
of  writing  Nora,  from  there,  that  he  was  about 
to  take  a  short  cruise  with  them.  Nora  was  furi- 
ous. She  took  her  children  back  to  the  country- 


360  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

home,  and  then  was  somewhat  comforted  by  a 
note  of  invitation  which  she  speedily  received. 
Couldn't  she  leave  her  children  for  a  while  and 
join  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dick  Rutherford  at  Trouville, 
"for  a  bit  of  a  bat"? 

She  could  and  did. 

It  was  very  gay  and  amusing.  She  didn't  miss 
Roger  so  much,  after  all,  except  that  it  made  her 
wild  to  remember  that  he  had  gone  where  she 
couldn't  go.  She  would  pay  him  for  that,  later. 

A  frequent  fourth  in  their  Trouville  parties  was 
a  delightful  Englishman,  a  Mr.  Wemyss.  Alice 
Rutherford  told  Nora  what  a  personage  he  was, 
not  only  as  a  man  of  fashion,  but  as  a  litterateur 
and  collector.  "He  has  one  of  the  most  famous 
collections  of  porcelains  in  the  world,"  she  said, 
"and  another  of  unset  gems.  He  is  an  authority 
on  those  subjects." 

Nora  did  wish  he  had  a  title.  Odd  as  it  may 
seem,  she  had  never  in  her  life  spoken  to  a  titled 
person.  Yet  not  so  odd,  either,  considering  that 
she  had  had  but  two  New  York  seasons  and  that 
only  one  of  them  had  been  spent  in  the  folds  of 
real  Society.  There  had  been  a  few  titled  for- 
eigners at  Palm  Beach,  but  Nora  hadn't  happened 
to  meet  them.  And  on  her  first  trip  abroad,  she 
and  Bob  had  simply  gazed  on  titled  society  from 
the  outside,  at  the  theatre,  and  the  opera.  She 
had  all  of  the  average  cockney's  delight  in  a  handle 
to  a  name. 

In  spite  of  Mr.  Wemyss's  inconvenient  lack,  he 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  361 

was  a  delightful  companion  and  things  were  going 
very  well  at  Trouville  when  they  were  upset  by  a 
bolt  from  the  blue.  A  cablegram  recalled  the 
Rutherfords.  Alice  Rutherford's  mother  was 
desperately  ill. 

"My  dear,  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  cried  to  Nora. 
"But  you  see  how  it  is?  There  is  nothing  for  me 
to  do,  but  to  hurry  off  at  once. " 

On  the  day  following  their  departure,  Nora  was 
sitting  chatting  with  Mr.  Wemyss  and  cursing 
her  luck.  Therese  was  upstairs  packing  and 
joining  in  the  curse-chorus. 

"But  why  must  you  go?"  asked  Mr.  Wemyss. 
"If  you  like  it  here,  why  not  stay  on  a  bit?" 

Nora  looked  up  to  reply,  when  her  attention  was 
caught  by  an  arriving  party.  The  attention  of 
everyone  in  the  room  was  caught  by  them. 

A  lady  with  her  maid,  a  gentleman  with  his 
valet  and  a  courier.  Their  car  and  chauffeur 
were  outside.  They  wanted  seven  or  eight  of  the 
best  rooms  in  the  house.  And  the  lady  was 
Madame  Stefanovitch. 

Nora  didn't  get  a  chance  to  bow.  But  before 
going  upstairs,  she  made  inquiries  at  the  desk  as 
to  the  length  of  time  that  the  newly  arrived  party 
planned  to  remain. 

"Therdse, "  she  said,  on  entering  her  room, 
"you  needn't  finish  that  packing.  I  am  remaining 
a  little  longer." 

Madame  Stefanovitch  was  as  exclusive  here  as 


362  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

on  the  ocean.  She  and  the  Prince  kept  themselves 
apart  from  the  rest  of  the  guests.  They  motored 
much,  sometimes  for  the  day,  and  sometimes  over- 
night. Their  valet  was  always  lifting  coroneted 
dressing-bags  into  their  motor  and  out  again. 

To  Nora,  alone,  did  Madame  and  her  fiance  un- 
bend. At  last,  Nora  had  the  bliss  of  conversing 
with  a  prince.  She  had  always  vaguely  supposed 
that  a  prince  was  the  son  of  a  king.  But  perhaps 
there  were  exceptions. 

"Do  get  me  an  introduction,"  begged  Mr. 
Wemyss.  "I  am  wild  to  examine  those  gems 
that  Madame  wears.  Particularly  that  huge 
emerald. " 

Madame  demurred  for  a  day  or  two. 

"Don't  think  me  too  rrude,"  she  begged,  "but 
we  are  so  content  as  we  are.  I  do  not  care  for 
introductions.  And  I  am  so  easily  bored!" 

Finally,  however,  she  yielded.  Nora  gave  a 
tea-party  to  celebrate  the  event. 

After  a  half -hour  of  chat,  Mr.  Weymss  said : 

"Madame  Stefanovitch,  you  wear  the  most 
stunning  gems  I  have  ever  seen.  I  am  something 
of  an  amateur  collector,  and  I  cannot  help  noticing 
them.  That  emerald,  for  instance!  It  is  marvel- 
lous!" 

She  laughed  and,  drawing  the  ring  from  her 
finger,  handed  it  to  him. 

"Do  you  permit?"  he  asked,  taking  a  small 
examining-glass  from  his  pocket. 

"But  cerrtainly, "  she  replied. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  363 

He  turned  the  gem  over  and  over,  murmuring: 
' '  Wonderful !  Superb ! ' '  Then,  as  he  returned  it, 
he  smiled: 

"I  am  breaking  the  tenth  commandment  over 
that  stone.  I  wish  it  were  for  sale. " 

"For  sale?"  she  echoed,  with  a  peal  of  laughter. 
"My  dear  sir,  that  stone  is  an  imitation!  And 
the  diamond  setting  is  paste!" 

Nora  had  a  horrid  shock,  but  not  so  Mr.  Wemyss. 

"Indeed  they  are  not,"  he  cried;  "I  would 
stake  my  reputation  on  that. " 

"You  would  lose  it,  then.  I  swear  to  you  that 
I  bought  that  rring  under  the  assurance  that  it 
was  paste.  Not  these  others,  of  course.  Just 
that  one ....  It  took  my  fancy  and  I  bought 
it.  Is  it  not  so,  Nicolai?" 

The  Prince  confirmed  her  assertion;  but  Mr. 
Wemyss  stood  his  ground. 

"  I  couldn't  be  so  deceived, "  he  insisted.  "  May 
I  examine  it  again?" 

And  again  he  took  out  his  glass. 

"Madame  Stef anovitch, "  he  said,  "this  is  an 
imitation  for  which  I  will  gladly  give  you  a 
thousand  pounds." 

"Oh,  oh,"  she  cried.  "And  you  an  authorrity 
on  gems!" 

"Will  you  let  me  have  it  for  that?"  he  insisted. 

" But  no.  How  could  I?  My  conscience  would 
not  permit  me  to  take  a  thousand  pounds  for  an 
imitation  gem. " 

"But  if  I  assume  the  risk?" 


364  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

She  shook  her  head.  "It  would  be  too  dis- 
honest," she  repeated  and  the  subject  dropped 
for  the  time  being. 

Mr.  Wemyss  returned  to  it  that  evening,  and 
finally  Madame  said: 

"But,  were  this  the  gem  that  you  believe  it  to 
be,  it  should  be  worth  more  than  a  thousand 
pounds." 

"It  is,"  he  agreed;  "I  will  gladly  give  you  two 
thousand  for  it." 

But,  as  before,  she  insisted,  "No,  no,  it  would  not 
be  honest." 

When  Nora  and  Mr.  Wemyss  were  left  alone, 
she  asked  him  about  it. 

"It  is  most  certainly  genuine,"  he  replied  with 
conviction.  "The  responsibility  of  such  a  gem 
is  very  great  and  she  has  evidently  invented  this 
tale  for  her  own  protection." 

That  explanation  comforted  Nora. 

A  day  or  so  later,  she  was  asked  to  tea  in  the 
apartment  of  Madame  Stefanovitch.  They  were 
alone,  and  the  talk  turned  again  on  gems.  Ma- 
dame despatched  her  maid  for  a  certain  ring — a 
ruby. 

' '  There  is  a  stone,  if  you  like, ' '  she  cried.  ' '  Your 
frriend  should  see  that.  It  is  the  most  wonderful 
gem  I  have  ever  seen, — and  I  have  seen  many.  .  .  . 
You  comprehend, — all  the  gem-merchants  in  Eu- 
rope know  me.  I  am  always  informed  when  they 
receive  a  parrticular  trreasure.  This  stone,  now, 
was  sold  at  a  terrible  sacrifice  by  the  nobleman 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  365 

who  owned  it.  A  frriend  of  mine — the  Duchess 
of  Rraneleigh.  ..." 

Nora  started.     That  was  Sybil  Carr's  sister. 

"This  frriend  asked  me  to  be  on  the  lookout 
for  a  parrticularly  beautiful  rruby.  So  I  seized 
this.  Now,  she  writes  me  in  distress  from  Monte 
Carlo.  She  has  been  playing  in  such  bad  luck 
that  she  cannot  take  the  rring,  and  it  is  on  my 
hands.  Not  that  I  object.  But  I  grrieve  that 
she  should  lose  such  an  opportunity.  ...  A 
stone  like  this  for  a  thousand  pounds!  It  is 
incrredible.  ...  It  is  worth  three  times  the 
amount.  Slip  it  on  your  finger.  Is  it  not  lovely? 
.  .  .  Some  day,  you  shall  show  me  your  rrubies. 
Why  not  now,  while  I  am  in  the  mood?  Come, 
let  us  go  to  your  aparrtment. " 

Nora  was  obliged  to  confess  that  she  had  "no 
rubies  here." 

"No  rrubies?  But  how  odd!  In  my  country, 
a  lady  is  known  by  her  rrubies.  She,  is  never 
without  them.  No  other  stone  compares  with 
them." 

Like  the  tinkle  of  far-off  bells,  there  crossed 
Nora's  mind  some  half-forgotten  words  she  had 
heard,  as  a  girl,  in  the  Allenbury  Methodist 
Church.  Something  about  a  good  woman  and  the 
price  of  rubies ....  It  made  rubies  the  stand- 
ard of  value,  she  remembered.  How  ridiculous 
for  her  to  own  none  of  them ! 

"I  wish,"  she  suddenly  said,  "that  you  would 
sell  me  this  ring  for  the  thousand  pounds  for  which 


366  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

the  Duchess  of  Ranleigh  was  to  have  bought  it." 

"Well,  ...  I,  myself,  would  not  object.  I 
bought  it  for  another,  .  .  .  and  I  have  so  many. 
But  the  Prrince,  ...  he  has  decided  that  I 
must  keep  it  as  a  gift  from  him.  He  never  tires  of 
making  me  gifts ....  If  I  let  you  take  it,  you 
must  prromise  not  to  wear  it,  until  we  are  parted.  " 

Nora  promised,  with  shining  eyes.  It  was  ar- 
ranged that  payment  should  be  made  in  the  travel- 
ler's cheques  of  a  well-known  company. 

That  evening,  the  indefatigable  Mr.  Wemyss 
returned  to  his  attack. 

"Ah,  ah,"  cried  milady,  "you  wear  me  to  a 
phantom.  I  cannot  forever  say  no.  I  assure  you 
that  this  rring  is  paste.  If  you  still  want  it  at 
two  thousand  pounds,  it  is  yours.  Take  tonight 
to  think  it  over.  I  am  going  off  tomorrow  for  the 
day.  You  can  tell  me  what  you  decide,  as  I 
start. " 

There  was  no  question  about  his  decision.  He 
took  the  ring  and  she  took  the  cheques.  And  both 
were  happy. 

The  motoring  party  did  not  return  that  night. 

They  did  not  return  the  next  day.  And  towards 
evening  of  that  second  day,  there  was  commotion 
in  the  hotel.  Mr.  Wemyss,  on  again  examining 
his  ring  through  the  glass,  found  that  it  was, 
indeed,  paste.  He  had  bargained  for  one  ring, — 
he  had  received  another, — a  perfect  duplicate, 
made,  evidently  for  that  express  purpose.  He  had 
not  a  leg  to  stand  on.  Madame  had  assured  him 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  367 

that  the  ring  was  paste,  and  had  then  sold  him  a 
paste  ring,  at  his  own  risk. 

The  hotel  bills  of  the  Stefanovitch  party  were 
still  unpaid.  Their  rooms  were  opened  and  their 
trunks  examined.  Empty,  all  of  them.  The 
contents  had  evidently  been  carried  off  in  relays, 
in  the  coroneted  bags,  on  the  various  motor  trips. 

Mr.  Wemyss  wired  immediately  to  have  pay- 
ment stopped  on  the  cheques.  It  was  too  late. 
They  had  already  been  converted  into  cash  at  the 
company's  headquarters  in  Paris.  So,  too,  had 
Nora's. 

She  never  mentioned  her  purchase;  she  well 
knew  that  she  had  been  duped  (a  jeweller  in  New 
York  afterwards  confirmed  her  convictions). 

As  she  thought  it  over,  she  saw  the  whole  plan. 
Milady  had  been  in  Havana  and  had  seen  Nora 
with  the  Leeds  party.  Her  own  unfinished  letter 
to  the  magnate  had  been  a  trick,  just  to  catch 
Nora's  eye.  Madame  didn't  know  Mr.  Leeds, 
at  all.  It  was  all  a  part  of  the  scheme.  She  had 
stalked  Nora  and  had  followed  her  to  cover. 

To  Mr.  Wemyss,  Nora  said: 

"But  suppose  you  had  examined  this  false  ring, 
through  the  glass,  when  you  took  it?" 

"Even  then,  the  woman  ran  no  risk,"  he  an- 
swered. "I  should  have  said,  'This  ring  is  paste. ' 
And  she  would  have  replied:  'Of  course  it  is.  I 
told  you  so  from  the  first?' ' 

Three  thousand  pounds!  Plus  the  living  ex- 
penses of  ten  luxurious  days!  Plus  several  small 


368  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

loans  of  fifty  and  a  hundred  pounds  each,  which 
had  been  made  to  the  Prince  by  various  men! 
That  wasn't  bad  finance! 

Nora  left  Trouville,  and  returned  to  her  "beauti- 
ful babies. " 

Toward  the  end  of  August,  she  and  Roger,  with 
a  party  of  friends,  were  staying  at  a  hotel  in 
Switzerland.  One  afternoon,  they  two  started 
for  a  walk.  He  had  suggested  it. 

"Nora,"  he  said,  when  they  had  gone  a  half- 
mile  or  so,  "I  brought  you  out  to  tell  you  some- 
thing. We  must  leave  this  place." 

' ' Leave  it ? "  she' queried.     "But  why ? ' ' 

"Because,"  he  answered  shortly,  "the  Rane- 
leighs  and  the  Carrs  are  coming. " 

Nora  reddened. 

"How  do  you  know?"  she  asked. 

1 '  One  of  the  men  told  me  so  today.  He  had  had 
a  letter  from  Carr. " 

"Well,  what  if  they  are  coming,"  Nora  cried 
tartly,  "I  don't  care." 

He  did  not  answer.  He  knew  that  it  was  a  lie. 
Nora  continued: 

"If  Mrs.  Carr  doesn't  want  to  see  me,  let  her  be 
the  one  to  stay  away. " 

"The  position  is  hardly  the  same,"  he  replied. 
"Mrs.  Carr  has  done  you  no  injury. " 

"Well,  I'm  no  worse  off  than  you  are!" 

"No,"  he  returned,  "and  I'm  going." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  she  demanded. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  369 

"To  America,  I  think.  This  has  been  the  rot- 
tenest  summer  I've  ever  spent.  I  shan't  be  leav- 
ing you  in  the  lurch,  for  your  husband  will  be  here 
in  ten  days." 

And  to  America  he  went,  as  soon  as  he  could 
arrange  for  his  passage. 

Roger  Kip  was,  by  this  time,  a  thoroughly  dis- 
illusioned man.  No  one  in  the  world  was  quicker 
than  he  to  differentiate  between  gem  and  paste, 
when  once  his  eye  had  grown  clear  and  his  head 
cool.  He  realized  what  a  bad  bargain  he  had 
made,  and  he  cursed  himself  for  it. 

After  years  of  intimate  companionship  with  a 
nature  like  Sybil  Carr's, — a  nature  that  was  big, 
and  warm,  and  generous, — Nora's  self-centred 
coldness  and  absence  of  sentiment  literally  hit  him 
in  the  face.  For  Nora,  naturally,  could  not  pose 
forever.  Her  mask  was  bound  to  fall,  and  its  fall 
appalled  him. 

He  had  grown  accustomed  to  the  flawless  breed- 
ing of  a  woman  who  was  the  product  of  generations 
of  good  blood,  and  it  drove  him  wild  to  see  how 
Nora  had  to  watch  herself,  and  watch  others,  in 
order  to  avoid  mistakes.  The  further  he  explored 
her  nature,  the  more  was  he  repelled.  His  passion, 
which  he  had  fancied  so  real,  had  been  but  a  flash 
in  the  pan.  There  was  nothing  to  feed  it.  He  had 
read  Nora  wrong ;  or  rather,  she  had  fooled  him 
nicely. 

He  had  bartered  old  lamps  for  new,  and  had 
thereby  cheated  himself  of  the  magic  gift.  He  had 
24 


370  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

exchanged  pure  metal  for  tinsel,  only  to  find  that 
the  tinsel  scratched  at  its  edges  and  poisoned  where 
it  scratched. 

Well,  that  was  his  lookout.  He  had  made  his 
bed  with  his  own  hands. 

Nora  Prentiss's  great  gift  was  worldliness,  not 
sentiment.  She  would  have  done  better  never  to 
dabble  in  the  latter,  for  she  could  do  no  more 
than  dabble.  Of  love,  she  was  incapable. 

She  was,  of  course,  furious  at  Roger's  leaving. 
She  vented  her  anger  on  her  children,  and  on  her 
husband  when  he  arrived.  Altogether,  everyone 
was  very  glad  to  get  back  to  Maynardstown. 
It  hadn't  been  a  particularly  successful  summer. 

What  was  it  that  palmist  had  said  about  travel- 
ling? That  prophecy  at  which  Nora  had  been  so 
amused  ? 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

ONE  November  morning,  Nora  was  just  rising 
when  her  telephone  tinkled. 

It  was  Mrs.  Van  Twiner's  maid,  calling  to  beg 
Mrs.  Prentiss  to  come  over,  at  the  first  possible 
moment.  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  had  had  bad  news 
and  was  in  a  terrible  state. 

"Oh  my  dear,  my  dear,"  she  cried,  as  soon  as 
she  saw  Nora  (and  the  tears  were  streaming  down 
her  cheeks),  "such  an  awful,  awful  thing  has  hap- 
pened,"  .  .  .  and  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands  and  sobbed. 

"Dear  Mrs.  Van  Twiner,"  queried  Nora  in 
dismay,  "what  is  it?  Do  tell  me.  Oh,  I  am  so 
sorry,  so  sorry.  Tell  me  what  it  is. " 

"Sybil  Carr, "  answered  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  with 
trembling  lips;  "my  beautiful  warm-hearted  Sybil! 
She  is  dead." 

"Dead?"  echoed  Nora,  "not  dead?  Mrs.  Carr? 
But  how?" 

' '  She  was  killed,  motoring  in  France.  My  dear, 
I  am  absolutely  convinced  that  it  was  suicide. 
She  and  Frank  have  been  staying  with  my  daugh- 
ter, and  Agnes  wrote  me  that  she  was  simply  ap- 
palled at  the  state  Sybil  was  in.  She  kept  insisting 

371 


372  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

she  was  quite  well,  and  trying  to  be  her  old  self,  but 
she  was  pale,  and  thin,  and  ill.  And  she  wouldn't 
let  her  husband  out  of  her  sight ;  she  was  always 
clinging  to  him,  and  trying  to  do  little  things  to 
please  him.  Agnes  wrote  that,  over  and  over 
again,  she  has  seen  Sybil  pick  up  Frank's  hand  and 
kiss  it.  So  absolutely  unlike  her.  And  he  was 
adorable  with  her — always  petting  her  and  amus- 
ing her  as  if  she  were  a  sick  child.  Agnes  says 
Sybil's  eyes  would  fill  with  tears  whenever  Frank 
would  fondle  her.  She  was  evidently  a  sick 
woman." 

"But  tell  me  about  her  death, "  entreated  Nora. 

There  was  no  doubt  whatever  about  the  feeling 
in  Nora  Prentiss's  heart.  It  was  thankfulness, 
pure  and  simple.  Now  she  would  never  be  in- 
convenienced !  Now  no  one  could  ever  wonder  at 
the  cessation  of  her  friendship  with  Mrs.  Carr,  or 
even,  perhaps,  at  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Carr  no  longer 
bowed  to  Mrs.  Prentiss.  Nora  was  glad,  and  she 
knew  it. 

"Tell  me  about  her  death,"  she  repeated. 

"Yes,  yes,  I  am  coming  to  that.  But  let  me 
tell  you  first  about  this.  I  want  you  to  see  why  I 
am  convinced  that  it  was  not  an  accident. 

"Agnes  says  that  whenever  they  discussed 
plans  for  the  future,  Sybil  would  be  evasive  and 
would  change  the  subject  as  soon  as  possible. 
The  only  definite  thing  she  ever  said  was  that  she 
didn't  want  to  spend  this  coming  winter  in  New 
York.  And  when  she  said  that,  she  looked  at 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  373 

Frank  and  he  promised  her,  'no,  no  dear,  we'll 
stay  over  here,'  just  as  if  he  were  comforting  a 
frightened  child.  Poor  Frank !  How  he  will  ever 
live  through  this,  is  more  than  I  can  imagine. " 

("/  shall  never  have  to  leave  a  hotel  again,  because 
of  Mrs.  Carr, "  thought  Nora.) 

"And  because  she  was  so  wretched,"  continued 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  "they  were  all  trying  to  cheer 
her  up.  And  she  enjoyed  motoring  more  than 
anything  else,  so  they  did  a  lot  of  it.  And,  on 
this  particular  day, — they  were  touring  you 
know, — Frank  Carr  was  sitting  in  front  with  the 
chauffeur  and  Agnes  and  poor  Sybil  were  in  the 
back.  My  son-in-law  was  to  meet  them  at  a 
point  a  little  farther  along  the  route.  And  they 
were  driving  where  there  was  a  steep  precipice  on 
one  side, — Sybil  was  on  that  side,  by  her  own 
request;  she  said  she  loved  to  look  down; — and 
suddenly,  something  in  the  steering-gear  went 
wrong  and  the  car  swerved  and  ran  right  up  to  the 
brink  of  that  terrible  place.  Frank  and  the 
chauffeur  both  called  out  'sit  still;  don't  move,' 
and  Agnes  said  that  she  never  had  the  slightest 
thought  of  doing  anything  else.  But  suddenly, — 
it  was  all  confusion,  you  know,  and  it  all  happened 
in  one  hundredth  of  the  time  it  takes  me  to  tell  it, — 
suddenly,  Agnes  saw  Sybil  standing  up  on  the  seat. 
And,  before  they  could  stop  her,  she  had  jumped, 
— jumped  straight  down  into  that  awful  chasm!" 

Here,  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  broke  down  again 
and  wept. 


374  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Agnes  says,"  she  murmured  between  sobs, 
"that  she  is  sure  she  shall  never  get  over  this 
shock.  And  Frank  Carr  is  like  a  dead  man. 
They  can't  rouse  him.  Isn't  it  the  most  awful 
thing  you  ever  heard?" 

"It  is,"  said  Nora.  "Perfectly  awful.  It 
sounds  as  though  her  mind  must  have  been 
unhinged. " 

"I'm  sure  it  was.  But  my  dear,  I  have  spoken 
to  you  very  freely,' — confidentially,  in  fact, — but 
it  must  simply  be  given  out  that  she  was  killed, 
motoring  in  France.  None  of  the  rest  of  this  must 
ever  be  mentioned." 

Nora  promised.  She  stayed  a  long  while  with 
Mrs.  Van  Twiner,  comforting  her. 

"You  do  me  so  much  good,  my  dear,"  Mrs 
Van  Twiner  kept  murmuring.  "You  are  so 
gentle,  and  so  sympathetic.  And  you  loved 
Sybil,  yourself.  I  remember  that.  But  then, 
everyone  loved  her.  She  was  the  sweetest  soul 
that  ever  lived." 

As  Nora  drove  home,  she  went  over  and  over 
again,  all  that  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  had  said.  How 
strange  to  think  that  that  beautiful  creature  ex- 
isted no  longer !  Two  years  ago,  Nora  had  seen  her 
for  the  first  time.  One  year  ago,  they  had  first  met. 
In  that  short  year,  they  had  first  become  friends 
and  then  had  ceased  to  be  friends.  And  now 
their  paths  would  never  cross  again. 

Granting  that  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  was  right  in  her 
suicide  theory,  there  was  not  much  doubt  as  to 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  375 

what  had  driven  Mrs.  Carr  to  the  act.  The  entire 
alteration  in  her  health  and  in  her  mode  of  life 
had  followed  immediately  on  the  Palm  Beach 
trip.  Imagine  caring  for  a  man  as  much  as  that! 
So  much  that,  when  you  lost  him,  the  whole  world 
ceased  to  matter !  That  there  should  be  no  further 
charm  in  life,  nor  health,  nor  wealth,  nor  youth, 
nor  beauty,  nor  love,  other  than  that  one  love. 
Nora's  lip  curled  in  contempt. 

"Fool, "  she  shought.  "No  man  is  worth  that. " 
Nor  was  he, — to  her.  But  natures  differ. 

When  she  reached  home,  Nora  was  told  that  her 
telephone  had  been  ringing  all  morning.  Someone 
in  New  York  wanted  to  speak  to  her,  and  had 
finally  left  a  number  with  the  request  that  Nora 
would  call  up  as  soon  as  she  returned.  She 
glanced  at  the  slip  of  paper.  Roger's  number,  of 
course.  She  had  expected  it. 

She  hardly  recognized  his  voice,  it  was  so  differ- 
ent from  usual. 

"Nora,"  he  asked,  "have  you  heard  this  awful 
news  from  France?" 

Yes,  she  told  him,  she  had  just  come  from  Mrs. 
Van  Twiner's. 

"Well,"  announced  Roger,  "I  can't  stand  it. 
I'm  going  away." 

"Away?"  she  echoed,  amazed.     "Where?" 

"I  don't  know;  anywhere.  California,  I  think. 
I  shall  start  on  Monday"  (it  was  then  Saturday). 

"But  I  shall  see  you  first?" 

He  hesitated  perceptibly,  then: 


376  THe  Road  to  Meccal 

"Nora,"  he  said,  "would  you  forgive  me  if  I 
didn't  see  you  till  my  return?  I  shan't  be  gone 
long, — a  month  or  two,  at  the  most.  And  I  shall 
write  you,  of  course.  But  I  really  have  no  right 
to  inflict  myself  upon  you  in  the  state  that  I 
now  am.  .  .  .  And  I  cannot  pull  myself  out 
of  it." 

"Very  well,"  she  answered  coldly.  "As  you 
please.  What  are  you  going  to  do,  tomorrow?" 

"I  am  going  to  church,"  he  replied. 

"To  church?"  He  could  not  have  astonished 
her  more. 

"Yes.  Good-bye,  Nora.  I'm  awfully  sorry 
to  go  off  in  this  way.  But  I  must.  It  is  better 
for  both  of  us.  I  will  write  you  immediately,  of 
course.  And  I  shall  be  back  before  you  realize 
that  I'm  gone.  Keep  well.  Good-bye.  " 

"Good-bye,"  she  responded.  And  she  .noted 
that  his  "good-bye"  had  been  followed  by  no  term 
of  endearment. 

The  next  morning,  for  the  first  time  in  years, 
Roger  Kip  crossed  the  threshold  of  a  church. 
Refusing  the  offices  of  the  verger,  he  chose  a  back 
pew  on  a  side  aisle — one  that  afforded  him  the 
shadow  of  a  pillar.  He  sat  there  with  his  head 
bowed  and  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  listening  to  the 
words  he  had  not  heard  in  so  long, — the  words  that 
echoed  like  voices  through  his  memory  and  awak- 
ened images  that  he  had  thought  were  gone 
forever: 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  377 

"He  pardoneth  and  absolveth  all  those  who 
truly  repent  and  unfeignedly  believe  His  holy 
gospel. " 

Ah !  how  he  needed  pardon  and  absolution ! 

"If  we  confess  our  sins.  He  is  faithful  and  just 
to  forgive  us  our  sins  and  to  cleanse  us  from  all  un- 
righteousness. " 

"Let  her  forgive  me,  let  her  forgive  me,"  his 
heart  prayed  again  and  again. 

He  could  have  cried  for  the  chance  to  go  back 
and  to  begin  anew. 

Ah  me!  that  such  feelings  should  so  often  come 
too  late!  That,  having  come,  they  should  again 
be  lost  in  the  roar  and  bustle  of  the  accustomed 
material  life  till,  at  length,  they  are  but  tiny 
pin-pricks  of  light  glimmering  at  the  end  of  a  long 
dark  vista,  the  sight  of  which  makes  us  uncomfort- 
able and  resentful  rather  than  repentant  and 
inspired. 

During  the  two  months  that  Roger  Kip  spent 
in  California,  he  was  a  better  man  than  he  had 
been  in  many  a  long  year.  But  because  he  was 
weak,  because  he  was  lonely,  because  Nora  wept 
and  made  scenes,  because  he  decided  that,  having 
ruined  one  woman's  life,  he  might  atone  by  trying 
to  be  faithful  to  another,  because  he  was  worse 
than  some  men,  because  he  was  better  than  some 
others,  because  he  went  to  church  one  day  in  the 
year  and  to  the  devil  three  hundred  and  sixty-four, 
he  eventually  drifted  back  to  Nora  and  old  habits. 


378  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

But  it  was  never  the  same.  Never.  She  was 
exacting  and  hard  to  please;  he  was  bored  and 
irritable;  there  were  frequent  ruptures  followed  by 
reconciliations.  And  each  time  the  gap  was  harder 
to  bridge.  The  zest  of  life  seemed  gone.  Its 
orange  was  squeezed  dry. 

It  is  odd  how  much  of  our  lives  is  devoured  by 
habit,  even  when  the  habit  has  ceased  to  please  us ! 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

THERE  followed  for  Nora  Prentiss  three  or  four 
fat  years  and,  contrary  to  Scripture,  the  fat  years 
swallowed  up  the  lean  ones.  Most  things  in 
Nora's  present  life  were  contrary  to  Scripture,  but 
greatly  in  accordance  with  her  own  ideas  and  those 
of  the  world  in  which  she  lived. 

It  was  wonderful  how  calmly  she  took  it  all. 
Nothing  surprised  her,  nothing  caused  her  any 
emotion.  Failure  would  have  affected  her;  the 
vision  of  heights  that  she  could  not  scale  would 
have  driven  her  wild.  But  the  steps  of  her  rise 
were  gradual,  though  swift  and  sure.  She  pre- 
pared them  with  infinite  care;  she  took  them  with 
infinite  precision.  The  one  grand  stroke  of  luck 
was,  at  the  same  time,  the  one  great  essential, 
and  that  was  the  money.  But  Nora  had  prac- 
tically seen  to  that  when  she  married  Bob.  He 
was  the  only  pushing,  rising,  "coming"  man  in 
Allenbury.  Suppose,  for  instance,  she  had  been 
weak  enough  to  blush  and  flutter  over  the  first 
swain  who  had  cast  sheep 's-eyes  in  her  direction! 
Suppose  she  had  responded  and  led  him  on,  after 
the  manner  of  village  girls  with  their  first  "beau  " ! 
Where  would  she  have  been  today?  Precisely 

379 


380  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

where  they  were; — back  in  Allenbury,  doing  her 
own  housework  and  mending  the  clothes  of  a  pack 
of  children. 

No,  it  was  really  not  the  "luck, "  that  it  might 
have  seemed  to  an  outsider.  Nora  had  prepared 
herself,  had  discouraged  interruptions,  had  done 
all  that  was  in  her  power  to  do,  and  then  had 
waited.  Definitely  and  calmly  had  she  waited, 
even  while  the  years  drifted  by,  even  when  she 
looked  to  be  in  danger  of  becoming  that  dread 
thing,  "an  old  maid."  It  is  rarely  that  no  stray 
chance  comes  the  way  of  a  person  who  has  the 
strength  to  pursue  this  plan,  to  do  all  that  is 
possible  and  then  to  wait. 

The  discovery  of  the  coal  in  the  Ohio  land  was 
luck,  if  you  please.  Let  it  go  at  that,  then;  Nora 
was  one  of  the  lucky  ones  of  the  world,  and  her 
head  had  kept  her  from  discounting  her  luck. 

Each  step  in  a  journey  seems  slight;  the  way- 
farer chooses  the  direction  of  those  steps;  and  the 
eye,  looking  back  over  the  road,  traverses  a  dis- 
tance that,  taken  in  the  aggregate,  is  appallingly 
great.  And  that  is  probably  the  experience  of 
every  human  soul. 

When  Nora  occasionally  permitted  herself  to 
remember  the  Allenbury  days,  it  seemed  as  though 
she  were  reviewing  the  life  of  another  person. 
Could  it  indeed  have  been  she?  How  she  had 
discarded  all  those  old  associations! 

So,  too,  had  she  discarded  the  Littles  and  their 
crowd.  She  had  used  them  as  stepping-stones, 


TKe  Road  to  Mecca  381 

climbed  on  their  backs,  and  then  sprung  to  the 
dizzier  heights  above  them. 

A  life  is  like  any  other  receptacle.  It  can  hold 
only  just  so  much.  If  we  insist  upon  retaining  old 
friends,  old  associations,  old  habits,  it  follows  that 
we  are  using  the  space  that  might  be  given  to  new 
ones.  We  are  hampering  ourselves  with  the  fetters 
of  sentiment  and  beggaring  the  possibilities  of  our 
future.  Nora  Prentiss  never  was  foolish  enough 
for  that! 

Her  first  achievement,  after  her  return  from 
Europe,  was  a  town-house.  The  Maynardstown 
winters  were  too  dull  for  her  now.  She  would 
keep  the  place  and  use  it  just  as  Mrs.  Van  Twiner 
used  Beechwold.  But  she  must  spend  her  winters 
in  town. 

Mrs.  Van  Twiner  helped  in  the  selection  of  the 
house;  decorators  and  furnishers  were  put  to  work, 
and,  Nora  became  the  chdtelaine  of  still  another 
abode. 

A  box  at  the  opera  was  the  next  crying  need  to 
be  satisfied.  In  it,  Nora  played  hostess  to  her 
constantly  increasing  circle  of  friends. 

Once,  in  France,  Nora  had  spent  five  thousand 
dollars  on  a  piece  of  red  glass.  It  was  the  best 
investment  that  she  ever  made.  It  had  pur- 
chased for  her  (in  addition  to  the  bit  of  glass) ,  the 
grand  manner.  Never  again  did  she  fall  into  a  like 
error.  Never  again  did  she  make  advances  to 
any  stranger.  Never  could  her  responses  be  won 
unless  she  knew,  beforehand,  exactly  who  was 


382  TKe  Road  to  Mecca 

winning  them.  It  would  have  taken  a  clever 
person  to  impose  on  Nora  Prentiss  after  that 
affair  of  the  "rruby. " 

Bob's  horses  and  stables  had  become  famous. 
There  was  a  separate  groom  for  each  horse,  and  a 
dentist  to  care  for  the  equine  mouths.  Ribbons 
and  cups  accumulated,  and  Nora  constantly  pre- 
sided in  boxes  at  horse-shows  and  race-meets. 

The  children  were  just  as  well  cared  for  as  were 
the  horses.  If  you  seem  to  have  heard  but  little 
of  Nora's  children  in  the  past,  it  was  because  she, 
herself,  heard  almost  as  little.  Those  were  the 
days  when  she  was  still  very  busy  progressing  and 
when  her  children  were  too  small  to  be  of  much 
public  use.  But,  as  they  grew  older,  things 
changed.  It  was  possible  to  entertain  charmingly 
for  them;  what  with  dances,  luncheons,  theatre 
parties,  Christmas  parties,  the  children  were  almost 
as  busy  socially  as  was  their  mother.  Busier, 
perhaps,  when  you  consider  their  lessons;  no 
matter  how  well  they  danced,  their  dancing  lessons 
must  always  continue;  and  there  were  masters  for 
music,  and  riding,  and  driving,  and  swimming. 
Professionals  instructed  them  in  tennis  and  golf. 
There  is  never  any  lack  of  teachers  for  the  children 
of  the  rich. 

Patricia  was,  unfortunately,  her  father's  counter- 
part. She  was  warm-hearted,  regardful  of  the 
feelings  of  others,  even  of  the  feelings  of  inferiors, 
and  inclined  to  cling  to  old  associations.  Nora 
could  see  trouble  ahead,  on  Patricia's  account. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  383 

But,  with  proper  handling,  she  could  undoubtedly 
be  forced  into  the  chosen  mould,  even  though  she 
did  not  fit  it  by  nature.  She  was  a  pretty  child, 
although  she  would  never  be  the  beauty  that  her 
mother  was.  Nora  was  still  lovely,  physically. 
True,  the  rouge-pot  and  the  lip-stick  were  now  an 
essential  part  of  her  daily  toilet,  but  she  was 
beautiful,  never- the-less. 

Cyril  was  exactly  like  her.  He  always  went 
straight  to  the  issue,  he  never  permitted  himself 
to  be  deterred  by  anything,  not  even  by  the  feelings 
of  those  whom  he  should  have  loved  best  in  the 
world,  and  he  always  got  exactly  what  he  intended 
to  get. 

"Mother,"  confided  Patricia  in  distress,  "Cyril 
doesn't  love  any  one.  He  doesn't  love  me.  I 
don't  believe  he  loves  even  you!" 

(' '  Even ! ' '     Poor  little  Patricia !) 

"Nonsense,"  replied  Nora,  "of  course,  your 
brother  loves  you.  Don't  say  such  ridiculous 
things,  Patricia.  Cyril  has  a  different  way  of 
showing  his  love.  That  is  all.  People  are  not 
all  alike." 

But  she  recognized  her  own  son. 

How  thankful  she  was  to  have  borne  her  children 
at  that  period  when  she  still  had  time  for  such 
things!  In  the  years  to  come,  they,  her  own  off- 
spring, would  make  alliances  with  the  oldest 
families  of  American  aristocracy.  Patricia  would 
probably  have  some  inconvenient  feelings  to  be 
dealt  with,  but  she  could  be  managed.  And 


384  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

Cyril  would  take  care  of  himself.  He  would 
bestow  the  Prentiss  name  on  a  flower  of  the  flock 
of  fashion,  and  in  the  veins  of  future  little  Pren- 
tisses  would  course  the  oldest  and  bluest  of  Amer- 
ican blood.  Patricia,  on  the  other  hand,  would 
assume  another  name;  one  that  had  been  famous 
for  generations.  She  might  even  take  a  title  with 
it.  Oh,  make  no  mistake  about  it,  for  nothing  in 
the  world  would  Nora  Prentiss  have  parted  with 
her  children.  Her  own  life  was  already  half,  or 
nearly  half,  over,  at  the  best;  theirs  was  still  to 
come.  And,  in  them,  she  would  continue  to  live. 
She  was,  indeed,  "a  devoted  mother"!  Mr. 
Wilde  knew  what  he  was  talking  about  when  he 
said  that. 

Long  ago,  when  Nora  first  came  to  New  York, 
she  had  been  puzzled  to  hear  all  questions  settled 
by  the  catchword,  "everyone  does  so-and-so," 
or  "no  one  does  so-and-so."  She  had  wondered, 
then,  who  constituted  that  "everyone"  and  who  it 
was  that  was  great  enough  and  courageous  enough 
to  be  the  first  to  decide  things.  Now,  she  knew. 
She  herself  was  one  of  the  mighty  to  whose  de- 
cisions all  the  world  bowed.  Her  word  was  law. 

The  new  dances  made  their  appearance.  What 
did  Mrs.  Robert  Prentiss  think  of  them?  The 
reporters  hurried  to  ascertain  and  to  record. 

Woman's  Suffrage  became  one  of  the  great  ques- 
tions of  the  day.  Was  Mrs.  Prentiss  pro  or  anti, 
and  would  she  give  her  reasons,  so  that  the  masses 
might  know  which  way  to  jump? 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  385 

How  tight  might  skirts  be  worn?  How  short? 
How  deeply  slashed?  Would  coloured  wigs  really 
be  accepted?  What  about  bobbed  hair  and 
fillets? 

Not  only  were  her  opinions  quoted,  but  her 
gowns  and  her  doings  were  faithfully  described. 
At  every  big  society  function  the  costume  of  Mrs. 
Robert  Prentiss  was  carefully  noted  and  accurately 
described  in  the  "society  columns"  of  all  the  big 
journals.  Her  town-house,  her  country-house,  her 
winter  wanderings  in  private  cars,  her  cruises, 
her  summers  at  Southampton,  or  on  the  North 
Shore,  her  visits  to  Scotch  castles  leased  by  friends, 
her  motor  trips  in  Europe,  all  were  faithfully 
painted  to  eager  throngs.  In  many  an  humble 
home,  envious  matrons  and  maidens  read  these 
accounts,  their  hearts  filled  with  envy  and  longing, 
just  as  Nora  herself  had  once  read  similar  para- 
graphs in  bygone  years. 

Nora  was  copied,  she  was  courted,  she  was 
envied,  she  was  flattered,  she  was  pictured,  she 
was  quoted.  In  every  great  Metropolitan  paper 
might  be  read  such  items  as  these: 

"Mrs.  Robert  W.  Prentiss  puts  the  seal  of  her 
approval  on  the  modern  dances.  She  considers 
them  graceful  and  attractive,  and  can  see  no  reason 
for  criticism." 

"Mrs.  Prentiss,  wife  of  the  well-known  mil- 
lionaire and  financier,  Robert  W.  Prentiss,  says 

25 


386  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

'  No '  to  Equal  Suffrage.  She  insists  that  a  woman's 
proper  sphere  is  in  her  own  home  and  that  there, 
only,  can  she  do  her  best  work.  Mrs.  Prentiss 
rather  fears  that  some  of  the  enthusiastic  workers 
in  the  Suffrage  movement  may  be  actuated  less  by 
principle  than  by  love  of  excitement  and  desire 
for  social  recognition." 

Nora  was  one  of  the  first  to  patronize  cabaret 
shows  and  public  dancing,  and  one  of  the  first  to 
drop  them  when  they  became  too  "common." 
She  was  a  patroness  at  all  fashionable  dancing 
classes,  and  arranged  one  for  children  of  the  ages 
of  her  own  children.  She  figured  at  the  head  of 
all  subscription  lists  for  fashionable  charities. 
She  organized  Christmas  sales,  and  card-parties 
in  expensive  hotels.  She  was  prime  mover  in  a 
series  of  "morning  concerts."  Nothing,  in  fact, 
could  be  carried  through  successfully  without  her 
co-operation. 

It  became  more  and  more  apparent  to  her  that 
she  must  have  a  home  on  Long  Island.  When  she 
went  over  there  to  house-parties  and  race-meets, 
she  found  a  bigger  field  of  operation  than  in 
Maynardstown  which  was  already  dust  under  her 
feet.  She  must  camp  on  the  new  ground. 

"Bob,"  she  announced,  "I  want  a  house  on 
Long  Island." 

He  looked  at  her  quizzically.  "What  would 
you  do  with  it?"  he  demanded. 

"Live  in  it,  of  course." 


The  Road  to   Mecca  38? 

"When?  Not  in  the  winters,  and  not  in  the 
summers,  I'm  sure. " 

"  No .     B  ut  between  seasons . ' ' 

"And  what  about  the  Maynardstown  place?" 

"Oh,  we  can  sell  that.  I'm  sick  and  tired  of 
Maynardstown.  There  aren't  half  a  dozen  fam- 
ilies there  that  interest  me  in  the  least. " 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I'm  not  particularly  wedded 
to  Maynardstown,  myself.  What  part  of  Long 
Island  would  you  choose." 

" Lindenvale, "  she  told  him,  "near  the  new 
club." 

It  transpired  that  Bob  himself  was  rather 
prejudiced  in  favour  of  Long  Island.  So  it  hap- 
pened that  this  conversation  resulted  in  many 
consultations  with  land  agents  and  many  motor 
trips  to  Long  Island,  always  in  the  company  of  a 
celebrated  architect. 

At  last,  a  site  was  found.  It  consisted  of  a 
wonderful  stretch  of  acres  right  in  the  heart  of 
Nora's  desired  Eden.  The  architect  led  them  to 
the  spot  where,  he  declared,  the  house  should 
stand. 

"But,  "  objected  Nora,  "it  is  bare  here.  I  want 
some  trees  around  my  house. " 

"Certainly,"  smiled  Mr.  Warner,  the  archi- 
tect, "certainly.  There  must  be  a  grove  of  trees 
at  that  end.  Almost  a  baby  forest  in  fact." 

"I  can't  wait  for  trees  to  grow." 

"You  will  not  have  to.  We  can  transplant  all 
the  trees  you  want." 


388  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Safely?  "asked  Bob. 

"Absolutely.  Insured  against  death  from  the 
operation." 

"I  won't  have  little  saplings, "  stipulated  Nora. 

"You  shall  have  great  forest  trees,  my  dear 
Mrs.  Prentiss.  Trees  of  any  size  that  you  may 
desire." 

You  see  how  it  is.  There  is  nothing  impossible, 
if  you  have  the  money  to  pay  for  it. 

"I  must  have  a  lotus-pond,"  was  Nora's  next 
observation. 

"An  excellent  idea,"  commended  Mr.  Warner, 
and  began  forthwith  to  locate  it,  making  notes  in 
his  book,  the  while. 

"White  and  blue  lotus,  I  suppose?"  he  ques- 
tioned. "And  wouldn't  you  like  the  pond  sur- 
rounded by  iris  ?  Both  the  Japanese  and  the  plain 
variety.  They  come  in  the  most  fascinating 
shades." 

"Yes.  And  there  must  be  orchid-houses" 
(never,  in  all  her  life  could  Nora  pronounce  that 
word  without  a  secret  thrill  of  shame,  and  the 
memory  of  Madame  Stefanovitch). 

"Ah,  yes!  certainly.  Houses,  not  only  for 
orchids,  but  for  all  flowers." 

It  was  arranged  that  Mr.  Warner  should  dine 
with  them,  one  night  in  the  following  week,  to 
discuss  plans.  In  the  interim,  Nora  jotted  down 
notes  of  all  the  special  items  that  occurred  to  her. 

"Mr.  Warner,"  she  began  as  they  sat  in  the 
library  of  her  New  York  house  on  the  evening  in 


TKe  Road  to  Mecca  389 

question,  "I  want  to  talk  to  you  first  about  the 
bathroom  in  my  own  suite. " 

There  were  to  be  more  than  twenty  bathrooms 
in  the  house,  including  those  for  the  servants,  but 
it  was  Nora's  own  special  one  that  was  concerning 
her  now. 

"Yes?"  smiled  Mr.  Warner,  with  note-book  and 
pencil  in  readiness. 

"It  must  be  large,  and  all  white.  Not  a  touch 
of  colour  anywhere. " 

"You  think  that  won't  be  too  cold  a  scheme?" 

"No.  That  is  what  I  want.  And  the  bath 
must  be  of  white  marble,  and  sunken,  so  that  the 
top  is  on  a  level  with  the  floor,  and  so  that  I  can 
walk  down  a  few  steps  into  it. " 

"It's  a  pretty  idea.  But  it  will  eat  up  space  in 
the  room  underneath, — that  sunken  bath. " 

"That  doesn't  matter,  you  can  have  all  the 
space  you  want. " 

"That  is  true.  And  I  shall  have  to  have  the 
marble  underlaid  with  heat  pipes,  so  that  it  shan't 
be  too  cold." 

"I  suppose  so.  And  there  must  never  be  any 
sound  of  running  water.  It  disturbs  me." 

"Oh  no.  In  all  the  baths  the  water  will  flush 
up  from  the  bottom  instead  of  falling  from  above. " 

"And  I  want  a  big  open  fireplace  just  opposite 
the  bath,  with  a  white  bearskin  in  front  of  it. " 

When  Nora  had  finally  insured  herself  of  a  bath- 
room to  her  liking,  they  passed  on  to  less  import- 
ant topics. 


390  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

In  the  closets  throughout  the  house,  the  opening 
of  the  door  would  cause  the  switching  on  of  an 
electric  light  within.  This  made  dark  closets  an 
impossibility.  All  shelves  were  to  be  of  plate 
glass.  It  appeared  that  there  was  a  firm  that  dealt 
exclusively  in  closet  furnishings,  scented  and 
padded  hangers,  etc.  Mr.  Warner,  by  the  way, 
being  very  English,  always  spoke  of  a  closet  as  a 
"clothes-press,"  or  a  "cupboard." 

He  had  recently  built  a  wonderful  gold  and 
glass  octagonal  ballroom  containing  a  grand  organ. 

"Oh,"  cried  Nora,  "I  must  have  one!" 

(Mr.  Warner  had  actually  the  credit  of  going  one 
better  than  she  herself  could  go,  in  the  line  of  ex- 
travagance.) 

"Who  will  play  the  organ?"  grinned  Bob. 

"An  electric  attachment,"  explained  Mr.  War- 
ner. "You  can  have  the  most  beautiful  music 
without  any  personal  skill. ' ' 

(Of  course,  he  excepted  the  personal  skill  to 
make  the  money  that  was  to  pay  for  it  all.) 

Patricia  and  Cyril  must  each  have  a  suite  of 
three  rooms.  There  must  be  many  guest  suites. 
Libraries,  dining-  and  breakfast-rooms,  drawing- 
rooms,  halls,  all  were  discussed.  Mr.  Warner  said 
he  understood  about  the  kitchens,  and  cellars,  and 
pantries,  and  servants'  quarters.  But  to  make 
assurance  doubly  sure,  he  was  to  have  a  later 
conference  with  Nora's  housekeeper  and  butler. 

Just  before  the  architect  rose  to  go,  Nora  said 
calmly: 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  391 

"It  must  all  be  finished,  absolutely  finished, 
by  the  last  week  in  May.  We  shall  move  in 
then." 

Mr.  Warner  stared  at  her. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Prentiss,"  he  ventured  "that 
is  impossible." 

"Nothing  is  impossible,"  she  replied.  "We 
shall  take  a  house  party  into  this  new  house  to 
spend  Memorial  Day." 

Suddenly,  Mr.  Warner  saw  the  advertising 
possibilities  of  this  remarkable  conception,  just  as 
Nora,  herself,  had  already  seen  them.  Columns 
in  all  the  papers!  Workmen  hammering  and 
pounding  all  night  under  electric  lights!  Looms 
grinding  and  turning  to  weave  the  specially  de- 
signed fabrics!  Flowers  and  plants  being  forced 
under  glass,  so  that  their  blooms  might  reach  per- 
fection at  the  stated  moment!  And  all  in  order 
that  Mrs.  Robert  Prentiss  might  enter  her  new 
home,  at  the  head  of  a  chosen  band  of  friends,  on 
the  exact  particular  date,  upon  which  her  fancy  had 
happened  to  alight.  It  was  gigantic!  It  was 
stupendous!  It  was  unheard  of!  It  should  be 
done ! 

"Very  well,  Mrs.  Prentiss,"  promised  Mr. 
Warner  at  the  end  of  a  somewhat  prolonged 
conference,"  it  shall  be  as  you  say!" 

And  the  contract  was  signed. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

ONE  morning,  during  the  first  week  in  April, 
Nora  sat  at  the  telephone  in  her  boudoir,  calling 
up  Roger  Kip's  apartment. 

"Hello!     Is  that  you  Roger?"  she  asked. 

"Yes.     Good-morning  Nora." 

"Good-morning.  .  .  .  Roger,  what  are  you  doing 
this  evening?" 

"I'm  dining  out,"  he  answered. 

"A  dinner-party?" 

He  hesitated.  "No,  not  a  party,"  he  finally 
admitted;  "I'm  just  dining  with  a  couple  of 
friends,  and  we  are  going  to  see  a  piece,  after- 
wards. " 

"Who  are  your  friends?"  she  persisted.  Then, 
as  no  immediate  answer  came,  she  continued, 
bitingly,  "never  mind.  You  needn't  bother  to 
tell  me.  I  know.  It's  the  Potters." 

Yes,  he  admitted,  "it"  was  the  Potters. 

This  was  precisely  what  Nora  had  feared.  Mrs. 
Wilton  Potter  was,  at  present,  the  particular 
thorn  in  the  flesh  of  Mrs.  Robert  Prentiss. 

Mrs.  Potter  was  a  Southerner  and  not  more  than 
nineteen  or  twenty  years  old.  She  had  been  poor 
and  exceedingly  well-born  and  she  had  married  a 

392 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  393 

Chicago  millionaire  nearly  old  enough  to  be  her 
grandfather.  After  a  year  of  wedded  bliss  in 
Chicago,  she  had  taken  her  doddering  and  obedi- 
ent spouse  by  the  hand  and  had  led  him,  gently 
but  firmly,  to  New  York.  There,  she  had  gained 
immediate  entrance  to  the  Holy  of  Holies. 

All  the  men  were  daft  about  her.  But  Nora 
knew  her  for  a  "little  cat. " 

Mrs.  Potter  might  be  a  cat,  but  she  was  certainly 
not  little.  She  was  tall  and  slender,  and  svelte. 
She  had  the  dark  oval  eyes  of  a  fawn,  and  the 
sparkling  spirits  and  easy  standards  of  a  faun 
with  a  different  spelling.  She  knew  all  there  was 
to  know  about  horses,  for  she  had  ridden  them 
all  her  life;  and,  in  a  habit,  she  was  a  dream.  She 
had  a  "baby"  manner  and  she  could  wind  her 
old  husband  round  her  finger.  Small  wonder  that 
Nora  loathed  her. 

"I'm  sorry,  Roger,"  she  now  said  icily,  "but 
I  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  break  that  engagement. 
I  particularly  need  you  tonight." 

"My  dear  Nora,  don't  be  absurd.  I  can't 
break  a  dinner  engagement." 

"Oh  yes,  you  can.  That  kind  of  a  dinner  en- 
gagement. It  isn't  like  a  formal  dinner.  You  can 
dine  and  see  a  play  any  time.  And,  as  you  are 
three,  anyhow,  the  party  will  be  made  even,  instead 
of  uneven,  by  your  absence." 

"  But  I  promised .    ..." 

"Promises  have  been  broken,  before  now." 

"The  tickets  are  bought.  ..." 


394  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"The  tickets  can  be  used.  Don't  worry,  my 
dear  Roger,  about  that.  There  are  plenty  of 
men  to  use  Mrs.  Potter's  tickets.  She  can  easily 
fill  your  place.  She  won't  even  miss  you. " 

There  was  a  long  pause. 

"Will  you  call  her  up  and  tell  her  that  you  can- 
not come,"  persisted  Nora. 

"What  do  you  need  me  for?"  he  parried. 

In  four  years,  Roger  Kip  had  grown  accustomed 
to  the  role  of  pacifist.  He  was  lazy  and  naturally 
sweet-tempered,  and  it  is  usually  the  nastiest 
temper  that  wins  out,  in  the  long  run.  Roger 
hated  rows.  He  would  rather  give  up  his  own 
plans  than  have  one.  And  Nora  hated  to  give  up 
her  own  plans.  She  would  rather  make  a  row 
than  do  it.  So,  after  all,  they  were  a  good  pair. 

A  woman  such  as  Nora  Prentiss  should  be 
handled  by  a  bully.  The  first  time  that  she  shows 
her  teeth  and  snarls,  she  should  be  beaten  into 
submission,  at  no  matter  what  pains.  Actual 
physical  force  would  have  conquered  Nora.  Pos- 
sibly nothing  else  would.  And  Roger  Kip,  not  be- 
ing equal  to  this  method,  was  a  poor  match  for  her. 

"What  do  you  need  me  for?"  he  repeated. 

"I  want  you  to  take  me  to  dinner,  and  to  see 
that  new  French  piece." 

"It's  horribly  vulgar,  Nora." 

"You've  seen  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  I  think  I  shall  risk  it.  Get  a  box,  so 
that  we  shan't  be  on  view." 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  395 

"Since  this  is  'nothing  but  dinner  and  a  piece 
at  the  theatre, '  why  can't  it  be  deferred  till 
another  night?" 

"Because  I  don't  wish  to  defer  it.  And  for  a 
million  other  reasons.  I  have  no  other  evening 
for  a  perfect  age.  This  is  the  last  week  the  piece 
is  to  run.  Bob  is  away  for  a  week,  on  his  car.  I 
cannot,  of  course,  spend  the  evening  alone.  The 
object  of  a  party  is  that  the  guests  shall  be  an 
even  number.  The  Potters'  party  will  be  even 
without  you.  My  party  will  be  even,  with  you. 
Are  those  reasons  enough?" 

"Why  don't  you  make  up  a  theatre-party  of 
your  own,  if  you  have  nothing  to  do  with  your 
evening?" 

"Who  could  I  get  at  this  late  hour?  Everyone 
would  be  engaged.  I  don't  want  to  argue  all 
morning,  Roger.  Will  you  do  as  I  ask?" 

"Yes, "  he  answered,  "I  suppose  so. " 

"That's  sensible.  Get  the  box  at  once.  Where 
shall  we  dine?" 

"Why  don't  you  decide,  since  this  seems  to  be 
your  party?" 

"Very  well.  I  will.  I  merely  thought  that 
you  might  have  a  preference. "  And  she  named 
a  place  and  an  hour,  and  turned  from  the 
telephone  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction  on  her 
lips. 

How  can  a  woman  be  such  a  fool  ?  Any  woman 
should  weep  over  a  victory  such  as  Nora's.  Love 
cannot  be  captured  by  force.  Nothing  is  flatter- 


396  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

ing  that  is  not  spontaneous,  whether  it  be  compli- 
ments, or  attention,  or  love. 

But  Nora  had  had  her  way — that  was  her  great 
point.  And  she  had  broken  up  an  evening  for 
"that  little  cat,"  Mrs.  Potter,  (as  if  one  evening 
so  broken,  did  not  bring  two  in  its  train).  And 
she  had  forced  Roger  to  a  disagreeable  task  which 
he  hated  and  wanted  to  avoid,  (such  an  excellent 
way  to  re-awaken  his  jaded  affection!).  Yes, 
taking  it  all  in  all,  Nora  was  well  content. 

She  spent  much  time  over  the  choice  of  a  cos- 
tume. Any  woman  can  tell  you  that  a  new 
frock  is  the  surest  means  of  revivifying  a  man's 
waning  love.  And  the  most  skilful  art  of  Therese 
was  called  into  play  to  arrange  Nora's  hair,  and 
eyebrows,  and  lashes,  and  lips,  and  cheeks.  No 
man  ever  detects  such  artifice,  of  course.  He  is 
always  beautifully  and  properly  deceived  by  it. 
And  as,  prior  to  these  rites,  Nora  had  had  a  per- 
fumed bath  and  a  long  beauty  sleep,  it  was  natural 
that  she  should  reach  the  restaurant  in  a  very 
charming  frame  of  mind. 

Roger  had  evidently  neglected  the  magic  means 
to  happiness, — the  perfumed  bath,  and  beauty 
sleep,  and  so  forth, — for  he  was  in  anything  but  a 
charming  frame  of  mind. 

Then  did  Nora  set  herself  the  easy  task  of 
blotting  out  entirely  the  memory  of  those  means 
by  which  she  had  attained  her  victory,  and  of 
breathing  life  into  a  corpse.  It  must  be  possible, 
else  why  do  so  many  women  insist  upon  trying  it? 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  397 

As  they  took  their  seats,  Roger  permitted  the 
waiter  to  relieve  Nora  of  her  wrap.  There  had 
been  a  time  when  that  was  his  own  cherished 
privilege. 

Over  the  cocktails,  Nora  challenged  him  coyly. 

"How  do  you  like  my  gown?"  she  demanded. 

"Very  pretty,  "he  answered,  without  enthusiasm. 

"I  thought  I  might  receive  some  flowers  to 
wear." 

"Oh,  did  you  want  flowers?  I'm  sorry.  Nora, 
do  you  know  you  are  growing  stout?" 

"Indeed,  I  am  not,  "  she  flamed  instantly. 

"  I  '11  bet  you  are, ' '  he  insisted.  ' '  What  do  your 
scales  say?" 

' '  I  weigh  exactly  the  same  as  I  have  weighed  for 
years,"  she  lied. 

"Well,  you  don't  look  it.  Perhaps  it  is  the 
present  styles.  .  .  .  But  it  can't  be,  either. 
For  there  are  still  plenty  of  women  who  look 
just  as  svelte  in  these  full  things  as  they  did  in  the 
very  narrow  ones. " 

She  knew  of  whom  he  was  thinking,  and  bit  her 
lip  in  vexation. 

"Scrawniness  isn't  svelteness,"  she  said  acidly. 

"No.  And  neither  is  fat.  There's  a  stunning- 
looking  woman  over  there.  The  one  in  black. 
Isn't  she  a  beauty?  I  don't  think  you  wear 
enough  black,  Nora.  When  a  woman  enters  her 
thirties.  .  .  .  " 

"When  I  enter  them,  my  dear  Roger,  I  will  come 
to  you  for  advice.  I  am  not  thirty  yet. " 


398  XKe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Oh,  come,  Nora!" 
"lamnet/" 

"How  old  is  Patricia?" 

"She  was  nine  last  January.  She  was  born 
before  I  had  been  married  a  year,  and  I  was 
married  when  I  was  seventeen. " 

"How  old  were  you,  then,  when  I  first  met  you 
in  Allenbury?" 

"Count  it  up  for  yourself,  since  calculation  seems 
to  be  your  forte,  "  she  said  unpleasantly.  "It  was 
in  May,  and  Patricia  had  been  two,  the  previous 
January." 

"A  little  over  twenty  that  would  make  you. 
.  .  .  Well,  I  suppose  you  might  have  been. 
Just  about  Mrs.  Potter's  age." 

He  said  it  deliberately,  and  with  malice  afore- 
thought. She  flushed,  but  could  think  of  nothing 
disagreeable  enough  to  reply. 

"But  she  has  no  children,  "  he  pursued. 

"A  good  thing,"  sneered  Nora. 

"Yes,  it  is.  It  leaves  her  free  to  amuse  herself 
— and  others.  And  probably  she  will  keep  her 
pretty  figure  all  the  longer." 

He  was  getting  his  revenge  all  right.  It  was 
making  him  almost  happy. 

At  the  same  time,  he  was  doing  some  quiet 
calculating. 

"It  was  in  November,  wasn't  it,"  he  suddenly 
asked,  "that  you  gave  that  big  dinner  to  celebrate 
the  anniversary  of  your  wedding?" 

"Yes,  "replied  Nora. 


XKe  Road  to  Mecca  399 

"And  Patricia  was  born  in  January,  and  before 
you  had  been  married  a  year?  My  dear  Nora! 
You  bring  blushes  to  my  cheek!  I  had  thought 
better  of  Prentiss,  at  least,  than  that. " 

And  this  was  the  pass  to  which  they  had  come 
in  four  years.  In  fact,  they  had  come  to  it  in 
considerably  less  than  four  years. 

There  is  probably  nothing  more  irritating  than 
to  be  detected  in  a  lie.  Very  few  natures  can  bear 
the  ordeal  with  equanimity,  and  Nora's  was  not 
among  those  few. 

Why  hadn't  she  let  him  go  off  and  dine  with  that 
little  vixen?  she  asked  herself  furiously.  Well, 
that  was  true.  Why  hadn't  she?  She  might  as 
well.  A  woman  might  always  just  as  well  accept 
the  inevitable  when  things  reach  such  a  pass  as  this. 

All  women  would  be  wise  to  make  this  their 
prayer : 

"Oh  Lord,  teach  me  that  I  can  no  more  inspire 
permanent  passion  than  can  any  other  woman. 
Grant  that,  when  I  see  it  wane,  I  may  bid  it  fare- 
well with  grace  and  cheerfulness.  Help  me  to 
realize  that  thus,  alone,  shall  I  be  wise. 

"Teach  me,  too,  that  as  I  do  unto  others,  so 
shall  I  surely  be  done  by.  That  neither,  I  nor 
any  other  living  soul,  can  break  every  law  of 
decency  and  fail  to  suffer  in  consequence. 

Amen. " 

But    prayers   are   a  far  cry  from  the  piece  to 


400  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

which  Nora  and  Roger  presently  betook  them- 
selves. 

It  was  vulgar  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  fas- 
tidious taste.  After  the  first  fifteen  or  twenty 
minutes,  Nora  sat  well  back  in  the  shadows  of  her 
box.  During  an  entr'act,  she  let  her  eye  rove 
over  the  house  in  search  of  familiar  faces.  Sud- 
denly she  saw  one,  and  the  sight  brought  her  bolt 
upright,  while  all  the  blood  in  her  body  flew  into 
her  face. 

About  halfway  back  in  the  parquet  sat  her 
husband, — the  husband  who  was  supposed  to  be 
far  away  on  his  car, — and  with  him  was  a  girl. 

Nora  took  up  her  glasses  for  a  clearer  view. 
Yes,  it  was  certainly  Bob.  And  his  companion 
was  a  demure  little  thing  with  soft  hair  and  down- 
cast eyes.  She  sat  very  close  to  him  and  fre- 
quently raised  her  dove's  eyes  to  him,  in  adoration. 
He  looked  absolutely  happy,  and  was  whispering 
to  his  companion  something  which  made  her 
smile  and  flush. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  Nora's  feeling. 
First  came  amazement.  It  couldn't  be  true!  Not 
Bob!  He  wasn't  that  kind !  But,  in  answer  to  this 
came  the  evidence  of  her  own  eyes.  It  was  true, 
it  was  Bob,  and  he  evidently  was  that  kind. 

Next  came  red-hot,  furious,  choking  rage!  So 
that  was  what  he  had  been  doing,  all  this  time. 
That  was  what  his  business-trips  meant.  Oh, 
wouldn't  she  just  make  him  pay  for  this?  Wouldn't 
she  hold  it  over  him  like  a  sword  of  Damocles  to 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  401 

the  end  of  his  days?  Just  wait  till  she  got  him 
alone,  at  home.  She'd  know  what  to  do. 

Suppose  he  denied  it?  It  would  do  her  no  good 
to  quote  Roger  Kip  as  witness,  for  that  would  be 
to  acknowledge  her  own  peccadilloes.  Bob  must 
be  made  to  believe  that,  when  she  saw  him,  she 
was  at  the  theatre  with  a  big  party,  instead  of 
alone  with  one  man. 

This  suggested  another  train  of  thought .... 
Well,  .  .  .  yes  .  .  .  that  was  true.  She  was 
in  precisely  the  same  position.  She  was  sitting 
in  a  box  en  tete-a-tete  with  her  chosen  companion, 
a  companion  of  the  opposite  sex.  Bob  was  sitting 
in  the  body  of  the  house,  also  alone  with  his 
chosen  companion,  who  was  also  of  the  opposite 
sex.  There  was  no  difference  except  in  the  loca- 
tion of  their  seats. 

Oh,  yes,  there  was,  though.  There  was  every 
difference.  It  was  not  the  same  thing  at  all.  Not 
in  the  least.  It  might  look  the  same,  but  it  was 
actually  very  different. 

The  fact  that  it  would  have  puzzled  her  to  define 
the  difference  detracted  not  one  particle  from  her 
assurance  that  it  existed.  Is  it  not  always 
"different"  when  we,  ourselves,  are  the  ones 
concerned? 

The  play  was  half  over  when  she  made  her  dis- 
covery. From  then  on,  there  was  no  play  for  her. 
Nothing  but  that  one  absorbing  thought  of  how 
she  should  best  handle  the  situation. 

Finally,  following  her  constant  glances,  Roger 
26 


4O2  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

looked  in  the  same  direction.  He,  too,  sat  up 
straight  and  took  his  glasses.  Then,  turning,  he 
met  Nora's  eyes.  Each  read  knowledge  in  the 
glance  of  the  other. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  she  asked. 

"  It  may  be  nothing, "  he  began. 

"  Of  course  it's  something.  You  know  it  as  well 
as  I  do.  What  do  such  things  usually  mean? 
What  would  he  be  doing  here  with  her?  .  .  . " 
She  stopped  rather  abruptly. 

"Yes.  There  we  are, "  .  .  .  said  Roger,  answer- 
ing her  thought.  Then: 

"Is  it  the  first  you've  known  of  it?"  he  asked. 

"Certainly  it  is.  Why?  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
it?" 

"Lord,  no.  But  you  two  must  have  been  living 
apart  quite  a  bit,  lately.  It  would  be  natural  to 
suppose  that  he  was  doing  something  with  his 
time,  wouldn't  it?  Why  not  he,  as  well  as  the  rest 
of  us?" 

"But  you  don't  suppose  I'm  going  to  accept 
it?"  she  cried  furiously.  "Why,  it's  an  insult  to 
me!" 

"I'm  sorry,  old  girl,"  said  Roger  sympatheti- 
cally. "Awfully  sorry.  Try  not  to  think  about 
?\  It's  your  pride  that's  hurt,  you  know.  You 
can't  be  terribly  in  love  with  him,  judging  from 
the  way  things  have  been  going.  .  .  ." 

"Of  course  I'm  not  'in  love'  with  him,"  she 
retorted.  "That  is  talk  for  babies.  But  no  man 
in  the  world  shall  insult  me  like  that.  The 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  403 

duplicity  of  it!  Going  off  on  his  'trips'  as  he  calls 
them,  and  daring  to  come  back  home  to  me,  just 
as  if  nothing  had  happened !  A  man  that  used  to 
be  a  church  member  and  talk  religion  from  morn- 
ing till  night." 

"Well,"  commented  Roger,  "he's  a  man,  after 
all.  And,  to  be  fair,  Nora,  it  isn't  as  if  you'd  been 
sitting  at  home  waiting  for  him,  all  this  time.  I'd 
think  twice  before  I  made  a  row  about  it,  if  I  were 
you. " 

"You  would,  would  you?"  she  sneered  hotly. 
"Well  I  wouldn't.  I'm  not  that  kind  of  a  woman. 
The  man  who  dares  to  insult  me,  to  replace  me 
with  a  common  little  shop-girl  like  that,  will 
find  that  he  hasn't  such  an  easy  row  to  hoe  as  he 
supposes.  Take  me  home.  I'm  sick  of  this  rotten 
show.  I  want  to  think. " 

"I'm  awfully  sorry  about  it,  Nora,"  repeated 
Roger,  taking  her  hand.  "More  sorry  than  I 
can  tell  you.  Don't  take  it  so  hard.  It  may  be 
nothing  at  all;  just  a  treat  he's  giving  some  little 
thing  he's  sorry  for.  " 

"Don't  be  a  fool,  "  she  snapped,  "can't  you  see 
that  he's  away  for  a  week's  trip?  He's  spending 
the  week  with  his  little  thing,  you  stupid." 

Roger  honestly  pitied  her,  even  though  he 
couldn't  quite  recognize  the  grounds  for  her 
righteous  indignation.  Even  four  years'  of  Nora's 
society  had  failed  to  disclose  to  him  the  real  ex- 
tent of  her  exaggerated  Ego.  He  soothed  her,  as 
they  left  the  theatre,  and,  at  her  own  door,  he 


404  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

bade  her  good-night  with  more  tenderness  than  he 
had  shown  in  many  a  moon. 

It  was  a  heavenly  spring  night  and  he  dismissed 
the  cab,  in  order  to  walk  down  to  his  own  apart- 
ment. He  needed  the  exercise.  As  he  walked, 
he  turned  Nora's  tragedy  over  and  over  in  his 
mind. 

Women  are  a  queer  lot,  he  reflected.  No  woman 
would  have  chafed  more  than  Nora  at  any  sign 
of  uxoriousness  on  the  part  of  her  husband.  No 
woman  wanted  a  freer  foot  for  herself.  Yet, 
apparently,  no  woman  could  resent  marital 
unfaithfulness  more  hotly. 

Suddenly,  another  side  of  the  question  struck 
him,  and  he  stopped  in  his  tracks. 

"Good  Lord,"  he  gasped,  "suppose  she  should 
divorce  him  and  expect  me  to  marry  her ! ' ' 

There  was  nothing  tender  about  that  thought. 
It  kept  him  awake,  on  a  bed  of  torture,  all  night 
long. 

Bob  stayed  his  week  out,  and  Nora  was  forced 
to  await  its  termination.  It  gave  her  time  to 
decide  on  her  own  course. 

Finally,  she  came  home  irom  a  dinner  one 
night,  to  be  told  by  Therdse  (who  had  been  placed 
on  guard),  that  Monsieur  had  returned  and  that 
his  lights  were  still  on. 

Nora  had  herself  put  into  a  peignoir;  then  she 
dismissed  Therese  and,  walking  across  to  her 
husband's  dressing-room,  tapped  at  the  door. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  405 

He  opened  it.  Although  it  was  two  years  since 
she  had  been  in  that  room,  he  showed  no  surprise. 

"Ah,  Nora, "  he  said,  "how  do  you  do?  Won't 
you  sit  down?"  and  he  pulled  a  big  chair  towards 
her. 

At  first  she  was  about  to  refuse  it  haughtily; 
but  she  reflected  that  she  might  be  there  for  some 
time  and  that  standing,  though  more  dignified, 
was  also  more  tiring.  So  she  accepted  the 
proffered  seat. 

Bob  also  seated  himself,  and  calmly  waited  for 
her  to  open  the  conversation. 

"I  have  come,"  she  began,  "to  inquire  about 
the  companion  of  the  weeks  that  you  spend  away 
from  home;  the  girl  who  was  with  you  at  the 
theatre,  last  Wednesday  night." 

She  expected  absolute,  cringing,  total  collapse, 
on  the  part  of  her  husband.  Denial,  perhaps. 
Fear  and  astonishment,  certainly. 

Instead,  what  did  she  see?  Relief.  Nothing 
but  relief,  pure  and  simple. 

"Nora,"  he  answered  quietly,  "I  am  glad  you 
have  opened  this  subject.  It  is  one  that  I  have  been 
wanting,  for  a  long  time,  to  discuss  with  you." 

He  stopped  as  though  to  gather  his  thoughts, 
then  continued: 

"It  has  hurt  me  to  deceive  you,  and  I  am  glad 
you  know  the  truth.  But  the  facts  of  the  case  are 
these:  that  little  girl  with  whom  you  saw  me, 
seems  to  be,  as  far  as  I  can  discover,  the  only 
person  on  God's  earth  who  cares  a  straw  for  me, 


406  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

one  way  or  the  other.  She  loves  me,  and, — for- 
give me,  Nora, — I  love  her.  And  I  do  not  intend 
to  give  her  up!" 

"You  don't  intend  to  give  her  up?" 

"I  do  not.  I  will  give  up  anything  else  first. 
You  can  do  exactly  as  you  please.  If  you  want  a 
divorce,  you  shall  have  it.  I  shan't  raise  a  finger 
to  stop  you.  I'll  settle  this  house  and  the  new 
place  on  you,  together  with  money  enough  to  run 
them  properly.  Just  decide  what  you  want 
and  it  shall  be  yours,  except  for  that  one  thing. 
I  will  not  give  up  the  girl  with  whom  you  saw  me. " 

"Who  is  she?"  cried  Nora,  furiously.  "Where 
did  you  pick  her  up?" 

"That  is  neither  here  nor  there.  We  will  leave 
her  out  of  the  discussion,  if  you  please. " 

"Oh,  she  is  too  good  to  be  mentioned  by  your 
wife?" 

"She  is  good,"  answered  Bob  quietly.  "Much 
too  good  for  me." 

"She  was  your  stenographer,  I  suppose?  One 
of  those  creatures  that  a  man  regards  simply  as  a 
piece  of  furniture?" 

"She  was  not  my  stenographer.  She  is  a  re- 
fined and  educated  girl.  I  have  been  to  her  home 
and  I  know  her  parents.  They  are  humble  people, 
but  they  are  better  than  all  of  your  rotten  fashion- 
able crowd  put  together.  Now,  if  you  please,  we 
will  leave  the  girl  out  of  this  discussion. " 

To  say  that  the  wind  was  taken  out  of  Nora's 
sails,  would  be  to  put  it  too  mildly.  She  was 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  407 

astounded!  She  couldn't  believe  her  own  ears! 
Bob,  if  you  please,  was  the  one  who  was  taking  a 
superior  tone.  He,  who  should  be  crawling,  and 
fawning,  and  begging  for  pardon,  was  daring  to 
sit  there  and  talk  to  her  like  this. 

"Do  you  want  a  divorce,  Nora?"  he  asked. 

Nora's  brain  immediately  rejected  the  idea. 
She  had  gone  over  that  ground  during  the  days 
that  she  had  spent  awaiting  Bob's  return.  She 
would  gain  nothing  by  yielding  to  temper  and 
demanding  a  divorce. 

In  spite  of  her  beauty,  and  her  brains,  and  her 
efforts,  and  her  position,  it  was  as  Bob's  wife  that 
she  shone.  And  she  knew  it  but  too  well.  He 
was  the  power  to  whom  the  world  bowed.  She 
was  the  beautiful  Mrs.  Robert  W.  Prentiss,  but 
he  was  Robert  W.  Prentiss,  in  person.  He  was 
the  financier.  He  was  the  millionaire.  He  was 
the  partner  in  the  great  house  of  Leeds  &  Co. 
He  was  the  mine-owner.  He  was  the  man  to 
whom  stocks  bowed.  While  she?  She  was  the 
woman  who  bore  his  name  and  presided  over  his 
establishment. 

Well,  only  too  well,  did  she  know  that,  as  the 
divorced  wife  of  the  magnate,  she  would  lose  a 
half, — two  thirds, — nine-tenths, — of  her  present 
prestige. 

And,  divorced,  he  would  be  free  to  re-marry. 
There  might  be  another  Mrs.  Robert  W.  Prentiss 
to  rule  society.  She  clenched  her  hands.  Not 
much!  Not  if  she  knew  herself! 


408  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

She,  of  course,  could  also  re-marry.  That 
meant  Roger.  But,  with  all  Roger's  birth,  and 
blood,  and  position,  the  world  would  never  bow 
to  Mrs.  Roger  Kip  as  it  bowed  and  grovelled  to 
Mrs.  Robert  Prentiss. 

She  was  so  long  replying  that  her  husband 
repeated  his  question. 

"Do  you  want  a  divorce,  Nora?" 

"No,"  she  flung  back,  "I  have  my  children  to 
consider,  even  though  you  seem  to  have  forgotten 
them." 

"The  children!"  he  repeated  sadly.  "Yes, 
they  would  be  the  chief  sufferers.  I  have  not 
forgotten  them,  Nora.  But  when  do  I  ever  see 
them?  When  may  I  ever  see  them?  They  are 
strangers  to  me.  Always  busy,  always  being  sent 
hither  and  yon.  There  is  no  time  for  intercourse, 
none  for  the  forming  of  ties.  The  children  would 
hardly  know  the  difference  if  I  were  dead. " 

They  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  then  the 
man  rose  and  began  to  pace  the  room. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Nora, "  he  said.  "  Try  to  believe  it. 
.  .  .  But,  ...  be  fair.  Is  it  all  my  fault? 
What  intercourse  has  there  been  between  us  for 
years,  mental  or  otherwise?  What  sympathy? 
A  peck  at  your  cheek  has  been  the  extent  of  my 
rights  as  your  husband.  A  man  wants  more  than 
that.  He  wants  more  than  the  privilege  of  paying 
his  wife's  bills.  Somehow  that  doesn't  seem  to 
satisfy  him  as  completely  as  it  should. " 

"You  have  had  my  friendship, "  she  began. 


The  Road  to  Mecca  409 

"Have  I?"  he  returned  with  an  odd  little  smile. 
"I  wonder.  Your  friendship  and  your  confi- 
dence?" 

"Certainly." 

"Nora,  be  honest,"  he  broke  out.  "I  have 
not  had  them,  and  you  know  it.  I  have  had 
nothing  from  you.  Nothing!  Before  God,  this 
thing  is  your  own  doing.  No  man  ever  loved  a 
woman  better  than  I  loved  you.  No  man  was 
more  willing  than  I  to  be  forever  faithful  to  his 
marriage  vows.  I  loved  you  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart.  You  could  have  wound  me  round  your 
finger.  When  the  awakening  began,  I  would  not 
believe.  I  shut  my  eyes.  I  held  my  ears.  I 
prayed  that  it  might  not  be  true.  Nora,  I  did  not 
leave  you.  You  flung  me  aside. " 

There  was  another  long  pause.  The  ticking  of 
the  clock  sounded  like  a  hammer.  Robert  Prentiss 
walked  over  to  the  window  and  looked  out  at  the 
night. 

"Then,"  he  resumed,  "it  is  your  desire  that,  for 
the  sake  of  the  children,  we  shall  continue  to  live 
together  in  appearance,  while  in  reality  we  lead 
our  separate  lives?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  "for  the  sake  of  the 
children. " 

"That  is  exactly  what  we  have  been  doing, "  he 
commented,  "except  that,  now,  we  both  know  the 
truth." 

She  threw  him  a  quick  look  at  that  word  "both, " 
and  rose  as  if  to  go.  But  he  stopped  her. 


4IO  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

"Sit  down  again,  Nora,"  he  said.  "I  have  a 
little  more  to  say.  I  will  not  keep  you  long. " 

She  could  hardly  do  other  than  obey.  He, 
too,  resumed  his  chair. 

"Who  was  with  you  at  the  theatre  the  night 
that  you  saw  me?"  he  asked. 

"  I  was  with  quite  a  large  party, "  she  replied. 

"Who  was  in  it?" 

"That  can  make  no  difference  to  you.  You 
decline  to  discuss  your  companion.  I  will  claim 
an  equal  right. " 

"Where  were  you  all  sitting?" 

"Back  of  you,  in  the  circle. " 

"That  is  a  lie,"  he  announced  calmly.  "You 
were  in  a  box,  alone  with  the  man  who  has  re- 
placed me  for  the  last  four  years.  .  .  .  There 
js  no  need  to  discuss  it"  (seeing  her  open  her  lips), 
.  .  .  "I  know.  I  have  known  for  a  long  time. 
Your  regard  for  your  children  did  not  so  greatly 
affect  your  own  conduct,  did  it?  .  .  .  Nora,  are 
we  quits?  .  .  .  Answer  me,  .  .  .  yes,  or  no?" 

She  did  not  reply,  however.  She  sat  staring  at 
a  vision  that  had  suddenly  been  revealed  to  her 
with  blinding  dazzling  clearness,  as  by  a  flash  of 
lightning. 

Here  was  one  man,  possibly  the  one  man,  who 
would  have  loved  her  always;  who  would  never 
have  found  her  disappointing;  who  would  never 
have  wandered  afield,  had  she  but  held  out  half  a 
finger  to  him.  And  she  had  thrown  him  away, 
taken  him  for  granted,  concerned  herself  with 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  411 

him  not  at  all.  She  had  journeyed  over  the  face 
of  the  earth  searching  that  which  all  the  while 
sat  waiting  for  her  at  her  own  fireside.  She  had 
flung  away  gold,  and  picked  up  dross ;  exchanged 
coin  for  counterfeit. 

Too  late  she  saw  it.  How  gladly  she  would  have 
gone  back  and  chosen  afresh!  Now  that  her 
rainbow  had  receded  ahead  of  her  hurrying  steps, 
now  that  her  mirage  had  faded  into  mist,  she  saw 
where  the  real  treasure  had  lain  all  the  while,  and 
she  knew  herself  for  a  fool. 

Probably  half  of  the  women  who  yield  to  men  of 
the  Leeds-Kip  types,  yield  because  they  fear  to 
lose  a  man  by  saying  "no"  to  him.  So  they  say 
"yes."  And  presently,  lo  and  behold,  they  find 
that  they  have  lost  him,  just  the  same.  Then  do 
they  realize  that  the  course  of  wisdom  would  have 
been  to  relinquish,  from  choice,  a  thing  that  they 
had  scarcely  even  begun  to  want,  rather  than  to 
give  it  up,  from  necessity,  after  it  had  become 
desirable  to  them. 

Nora  sat  silent  so  long  in  contemplation  of  her 
vision,  that  her  husband  thought  she  could  not 
have  heard  his  question,  and  he  put  it  again: 

"Nora,  are  we  quits?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered  in  a  voice  so  low  that  he 
could  hardly  hear  it.  This  time  he  made  no  effort 
to  detain  her  as  she  rose  to  leave  the  room.  Had 
he  done  so,  he  might  have  been  surprised  at  the 
look  on  her  face. 


CHAPTER  XV 

ONE  week  before  Memorial  Day,  Nora's  house- 
keeper went  out  to  inspect  the  new  house.  She 
returned  with  the  report  that  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  live  in  it  under  a  month,  at  the  shortest. 
Architects,  contractors,  and  workmen,  all  upheld 
her  verdict. 

The  next  day,  Nora  cancelled  all  her  engage- 
ments and  went  out,  herself.  It  was  indeed  desola- 
tion. The  grove  of  forest  trees  was  but  half 
transplanted.  There  was  no  sward  anywhere. 
The  fountain  still  existed  in  the  imagination  of  its 
designer,  alone.  Its  site  was  surrounded  by  bare 
mould.  The  plants  were  all  waiting  in  the  hot- 
houses, numbered,  and  a  diagram  bore  accompany- 
ing numbers  to  show  their  ultimate  destinations; 
but  no  one  plant  was  in  place.  The  stables  were 
not  finished,  nor,  indeed  was  the  house.  Papers, 
and  straw,  and  boxes,  and  planks,  cluttered  the 
entire  place. 

Nora  sent  for  the  contractor. 

"This  must  be  entirely  finished  in  six  days  so 
that  it  looks  like  an  old  place,"  she  said.  "We 
move  in  the  day  before  Memorial  Day. " 

The  man  looked  as  if  he  were  facing  his  coffin. 
412 


XHe  Road  to  Mecca  413 

"Mrs.  Prentiss, "  he  replied,  "it  cannot  possibly 
be  done." 

"It  must  be,"  she  commanded.  "Put  a  man 
on  every  square  inch,  if  you  like.  Work  every 
minute  of  the  twenty-four  hours.  Use  your  men 
in  shifts,  but  see  that  the  work  never  slacks.  It 
must  be  finished. " 

And  it  was. 

Two  days  before  Memorial  Day,  the  housekeeper 
moved  out  with  half  of  the  servants.  They  found 
everything  in  absolute  readiness.  On  the  morning 
of  Memorial  Day,  the  rest  of  the  servants  came. 
And,  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  motors  and  coaches 
carried  down  one  of  the  gayest  house-parties 
that  has  ever  been  seen  on  Long  Island.  And 
that  is  saying  quite  a  bit. 

They  found  everything  awaiting  their  arrival, 
in  the  perfection  of  finish.  Flower-bordered 
fountains  were  playing,  and  flower-bordered  lotus- 
pools  were  dimpling.  The  grove  of  forest  trees 
was  almost  dense,  and  moss  and  spring  blossoms 
grew  at  the  base  of  the  trees.  Velvety  green- 
sward covered  every  inch  of  the  lawns.  The 
stables  were  ready  for  inspection.  Tea  was 
waiting  on  the  terrace,  served  on  many  wicker 
tables  covered  with  striped  umbrellas;  inside  the 
house  there  was  not  a  book  nor  a  magazine 
lacking,  even  the  day's  papers  were  lying  on  a 
table;  and  the  grand  organ  in  the  ballroom  was 
playing,  as  they  entered. 

Such  a  merry  chattering  throng!     Mr.   Leeds 


414  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

was  there,  having  asked  for  his  invitation.  Roger 
Kip  was  there,  having  refused  to  accept  his  unless 
under  a  certain  condition ;  the  condition  was  there, 
in  the  shape  of  the  fascinating  Mrs.  Wilton  Potter, 
who  formed  the  raison  d'etre  for  the  presence  of 
Mr.  Leeds,  Mr.  Kip,  and  half  the  other  men  in  the 
party.  Mr.  Potter  was  there,  but  no  one  noticed 
him.  Everyone,  in  short,  who  mattered  in  the 
least,  was  there. 

Dinner  that  evening  was  a  Lucullan  feast,  and 
the  bright  particular  star  of  the  occasion  was 
Robert  W.  Prentiss.  Not  Nora,  not  even  Mr. 
Leeds  (who  was  growing  old  and  would  soon  be 
doddering),  but  Robert  Prentiss,  the  man  whose 
brain  had  amassed  the  fortune,  the  magic  of  which 
made  the  whole  thing  possible. 

At  every  turn,  he  was  appealed  to. 

"Oh  Mr.  Prentiss,"  cried  Mrs.  Potter,  "tell  us 
what  you  think  of  the  dances  of  the  day?" 

"Well,"  he  smiled,  "I  think  they  are  pretty 
much  like  everything  else.  It  is  not  so  much 
the  dances  themselves,  as  the  people  who  do  them 
and  the  way  they  are  done." 

"And  how  about  Equal  Suffrage, "  she  persisted, 
"do  you  believe  in  that?" 

He  shook  his  head  with  a  little  laugh.  "No," 
he  said,  "I  don't.  I  believe  it's  coming.  But  I 
think  it  is  going  to  be  a  big  disappointment  to  the 
conscientious  women, — after  a  few  years.  I'm 
afraid  they'll  find  that  there  is  a  good  deal  of 
human  nature  left  yet,  even  in  women." 


XKe   Road  to   Mecca  415 

This  was  greeted  with  shouts.  When  they  had 
subsided,  Nora  looked  across  at  her  husband. 

"We  agree  on  that  don't  we?"  she  smiled. 

"Yes,"  he  answered.     "On  that." 

Mrs.  Potter  wanted  the  floor.  She  was  going 
to  tell  a  joke. 

"You  know,  Mr.  Prentiss, "  she  said,  "you  re- 
mind me  of  the  man  who  was  asked  if  he  thought 
that  women  should  go  to  the  polls  on  Election 
Day.  And  he  said:  'Indeed  I  do.  All  of  them. 
I  think  half  of  them  should  go  to  the  North  Pole 
and  the  other  half  to  the  South." 

"Which  pole  are  you  going  to?"  Nora  heard 
Roger  Kip  murmur  to  the  narrator  of  this  tale, 
under  cover  of  the  applause  that  followed  it.  "I 
want  to  know  in  advance.  " 

And  Nora  could  have  killed  her  for  the  look  she 
gave  him. 

Again,  when  they  left  the  table  and  were  going 
out  onto  the  terrace  for  coffee,  she  heard  Roger 
whisper  to  the  dark-eyed  beauty: 

' '  How  one  feels  you ! ' ' 

Nora's  heart  contracted  as  she  was  suddenly 
carried  back  through  the  years  to  that  day  when 
Roger  had  breathed  those  same  words  to  her. 

And  then  came  Mr.  Leeds  trying  to  supplant 
Roger,  and  congratulating  Mrs.  Potter  on  the 
beauty  of  her  bare  arms.  He  still  used  appro- 
priate gestures  at  such  times. 

Well,  what  will  you?  The  world  moves.  The 
men  who  are  complimenting  us  today  have  as- 


416  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

suredly  complimented  many  women  before  us, 
and  will  just  as  surely  compliment  many  others 
after  us.  Their  flattery  does  not  mean  that  we 
are  a  special  kind  of  woman,  but  that  they  are  a 
special  kind  of  man.  The  speeches  that  sound  so 
flat  and  maundering  when  made  to  others,  have  a 
much  more  virile  ring  when  poured  into  our  own 
ears.  Have  they  not? 

Nora  didn't  care  a  rap  for  Mr.  Leeds;  she  even 
disliked  him ;  but  it  stung  her  to  see  his  infatuation 
for  this  new  beauty.  She  didn't  love  Roger,  but 
she  was  infuriated  at  the  thought  of  his  defection ; 
she  didn't  really  love  Bob ;  but  she  could  have  killed 
the  girl  who  had  stolen  his  heart.  In  fact,  she 
didn't  love  anybody,  but  she  wanted  everybody 
to  love  her. 

Oh  you,  who  envy  the  Noras  of  this  world,  who 
look  jealously  upon  them  and  think  that  every- 
thing always  goes  their  way,  don't  be  too  sure. 
On  the  surface,  women  like  Nora  Prentiss  generally 
look  successful;  on  the  surface,  they  are  always 
clever  enough  to  give  an  impression  of  happiness. 
But,  could  you  read  beneath,  I  think  you  would 
find  a  different  story.  If  unscrupulousness  and 
lack  of  heart  spell  happiness,  then  I  must  alter 
all  my  convictions!  The  woman  without  a  heart 
is  a  subject  for  pity,  not  envy.  For  her,  the  well- 
springs  of  joy  are  forever  sealed.  She  can  never 
give  love,  and  never  retain  it;  never  impart  hap- 
piness, and  never  reach  it.  She  is  under  the  most 
blighting  of  curses. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  417 

"Give,  and  it  shall  be  given  unto  you;  good 
measure,  pressed  down,  shaken  together,  and  run- 
ning over,  shall  men  give  into  your  bosom.  For 
with  the  same  measure  that  ye  mete,  withal  shall 
it  be  measured  unto  you  again." 

Nora's  house-party  lasted  three  days,  and  then 
most  of  the  crowd,  including  its  host  and  hostess, 
rushed  off  on  a  cruise.  But  the  thing  had  been 
done.  It  had  been  proved  to  the  waiting  world 
that  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  would  pause  in  their 
courses  to  consult  the  desires  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Robert  W.  Prentiss. 

That  summer  Nora  spent  in  a  Newport  palace, 
(properly  known  as  a  "cottage").  She  opened 
her  season  with  one  of  the  most  marvellous  balls 
that  had  ever  been  given  there.  A  description  of 
it  would  beggar  all  the  tales  of  Oriental  luxury  that 
you  could  read  in  a  lifetime. 

After  it  was  over,  Nora  could  not  sleep.  Getting 
out  of  bed,  she  threw  a  lacy  robe  around  her 
shoulders  and  sat  by  her  window,  wrapped  in 
thought. 

There  was  no  necessity  for  wearing  her  mask; 
no  one  could  see  her.  And  when  she  dropped  it, 
her  face  looked  like  the  face  of  another  woman. 

Where  could  she  turn  for  happiness?    Was  there, 
in  all  the  world,  none  for  her?     Was  she  under  a 
curse,  that  everything  should  crumble  to  dust  and 
ashes  in  her  grasp? 
27 


418  XHe  Road  to  Mecca 

She  believed  that  "Walter's  Mary,"  sitting 
back  there,  in  Allenbury,  was  a  happier  woman, 
today,  than  she.  But,  in  Mary's  situation,  Nora, 
herself,  would  have  prayed  for  death.  The  trouble 
seemed  to  be  within  her;  in  her  blood,  probably. 
It  poisoned  her;  it  drove  her;  it  stung  her  like  a 
lash. 

Then,  too,  Walter's  Mary  was  a  "good"  woman, 
(which  killed  the  comparison).  So  was  old  Mrs. 
Brewster.  So  were  most  of  the  Allenbury  women. 
So,  too,  were  Mrs.  Van  Twiner  and  many,  many  of 
the  women  in  her  set,  both  old  and  young.  They 
had  been  wise  enough,  and  strong  enough,  and 
good  enough,  to  see  clear  and  to  walk  straight. 
It  is  simply  a  question  of  vision:  those  who  see 
the  farthest,  invariably  walk  the  straightest. 

As  Nora  looked  back,  she  realized  that  it  was  not 
her  moral  lapses  which  had  aided  her  ascent. 
They  had  but  served  to  leave  her  a  disappointed 
woman  with  a  bitter  taste  in  her  mouth.  The 
compromises  she  had  made  with  her  rag  of  a  con- 
science had  all  seemed  necessary  at  the  time.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  they  had  been  but  snares  and 
tests;  snares  which  had  entrapped  her,  tests  which 
she  had  failed  to  withstand.  Ah !  for  the  wisdom 
to  realize  such  things  before  it  is  too  late ! 

Suppose  Nora  had  been  satisfied  to  pause  be- 
tween the  two  extremes  of  her  life!  Suppose  she 
had  been  content  with  her  money,  a  goodly  circle 
of  friends,  her  children,  and  the  love  of  her  hus- 
band! How  would  it  have  been  with  her,  if  she 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  419 

had  been  less  insatiable?  Was  not  her  driving, 
overweening  ambition  the  real  core  of  her  trouble? 

She  shook  her  head  impatiently.  She  couldn't 
have  stopped!  She  was  made  that  way!  She 
was  sure  that  it  was  not  her  fault.  Destiny,— 
that  was  what  it  was. 

Suddenly,  from  the  Japanese  garden  below,  the 
odour  of  lilies  was  wafted  to  her  nostrils,  (how 
she  hated  that  smell!).  On  its  wings,  she  was 
carried  back  through  the  years  to  that  August 
morning  when  she  awoke  to  the  consciousness  of 
her  newly  formed  engagement.  How  far  she  had 
travelled  since  then !  How  far !  And  how  had  her 
journey  paid  her?  Let  her  be  honest,  for  once! 

She  had  lost  her  mate!  By  her  own  acts,  she 
had  lost  him.  All  other  men  with  whom  she  might 
seek  to  fill  her  life,  gave  her  but  the  shadow  of  that 
which  he  had  given  her.  They  were  self-centred 
and  self-seeking.  No  one  of  them  would  care 
for  her  longer  than  that  time  when  she  could 
amuse  him  and  pique  his  interest.  Satisfied,  he 
would  wander  afield.  Unless,  indeed,  she  bought 
love!  And  what  is  love  that  can  be  bought? 

Roger's  passion  was  long  since  dead.  Even  his 
affection  had  vanished.  Her  pride  shivered  as 
she  made  the  admission,  but  it  was  true.  Just  as 
Nora,  herself,  had  supplanted  Sybil  Carr,  so  had 
she,  in  turn,  come  to  be  supplanted. 

Oh,  the  impermanence  of  things!  That  was 
the  cause  of  all  the  trouble, — their  bitter  torturing 
impermanence!  Why  could  they  not  last  forever? 


420  THe  Road  to  Mecca 

Suddenly  she  remembered  the  things  that  she 
would  not  have  wished  to  have  had  ' '  last  forever ' ' : 
her  Allenbury  life;  Roger's  love  for  Sybil  Carr. 
When  Nora  looked  the  matter  in  the  face,  she 
knew  that  the  entire  fabric  of  her  life  had  been 
founded  on  the  impermanence  of  things. 

But  she  had  not  finished,  quite,  with  her  self- 
examination. 

The  wings  of  her  soul  were  torn  and  bleeding, 
crushed,  and  drooping,  and  soiled.  She  could  no 
longer  soar  on  them.  And  she  was  tired.  On  her 
journey  along  the  Road,  she  had  carried  the 
pebbles  in  her  shoes  and  worn  the  hair-cloth  shirt. 
Bruised  feet  and  lacerated  flesh  bore  witness  to  that. 

Her  sky,  once  so  dull  and  leaden,  had  flushed  to 
pink,  and  then  to  deepest  rose.  Could  she  have 
looked  into  the  future,  she  might  have  been 
affrighted  at  the  lividness  of  its  ultimate  hue. 

But,  after  all,  the  fact  remained  that  her 
journey  had  been  made  with  one  desire,  one  hope, 
one  end.  She  had  lived  to  see  that  desire  fulfilled, 
that  hope  realized,  that  end  attained.  The  weary 
Road  lay  behind  her,  and  she  had  entered  the 
city  of  her  dreams. 

In  fullest  measure  had  she  received  all  that  for 
which  she  had  longed,  and  hoped,  and  schemed, 
and  strived.  Why,  then,  was  she  not  happy? 
Could  she  have  chosen  amiss?  There  surged 
through  her  a  wave  of  homesickness  and  despair, 
as  a  swift  flash  of  premonition  painted  to  her  the 
inside  loneliness  of  the  coming  years. 


THe  Road  to  Mecca  421 

Yet,  she  was  in  Mecca.  She  repeated  the  words, 
in  the  effort  to  still  her  fears.  The  Gates  of  Desire 
had  swung  open  to  her  touch,  and  she  was  inside. 

How  different  it  all  was  from  what  she  had 
imagined!  The  sounds  were  different;  the  sights 
were  different;  the  entire  feel  was  different.  Bells 
which,  in  the  distance,  had  chimed  like  calling 
joy-bells,  now  tolled  knells.  Glittering  metal 
was  hard  and  cold,  and  unresponsive  to  the  in- 
timate touch;  its  function  was  to  shine,  not  to 
warm.  The  glowing  pink  haze  which  enveloped 
the  city  was  produced  artificially  and  by  constant 
and  strenuous  endeavour. 

A  feeling  of  panic  assailed  Nora  Prentiss.  Her 
entire  life  had  been  given  to  this  task;  no  effort 
had  been  too  great,  no  means  too  small  to  accom- 
plish it.  If  Mecca  failed  her,  she  had  absolutely 
nothing  left! 


The  Road  to  Mecca  is  thronged  with  pilgrims. 
With  eager  eyes  gazing  ahead,  they  turn  neither  to 
the  right  nor  to  the  left. 

Will  torture  increase  their  chances  of  reward? 
Then  let  that  torture  be  borne.  Fill  the  shoes  with 
pebbles;  assume  the  hair-cloth  shirt;  shoulder  the 
heavy  burden.  Feet  may  be  bruised,  tender  flesh 
torn,  muscles  twisted  and  strained.  Comrades  may 
fall  by  the  way  but,  unless  so  prompted,  none  need 
pause  to  minister. 


422 


THe  Road  to  Mecca 


Ever  the  shining  mosques  and  spires  beckon,  pro- 
mising joy  unspeakable.  Ever  the  jostling  throngs 
press  forward  to  that  promise. 

Is  it  fulfilled?  Are  the  transports  of  the  desired 
city  ample  compensation  for  the  weary  journey?  Do 
souls  there  lose  their  burdens  and  penances  reap  their 
harvests? 

Those  who  enter  Mecca  have  sealed  lips.  If  they 
have  met  with  disappointment,  none  shall  learn  it 
from  them. 

Glance,  though,  at  their  faces;  that,  at  least,  is  per- 
mitted. Do  they  shine  with  a  bliss  that  cannot  be 
expressed  in  words?  Are  eager  hands  reached  out 
in  help  to  others? 

Alas,  no.  Faces  are  stern  and  set  and  mouths  are 
hard.  Eyes  that  once  shone  humanly  have  now 
grown  cold  and  weary.  And  the  outstretched  hands 
are  busy  barring  the  sacred  portals  against  all  im- 
pertinent intruders. 

The  Road  to  Mecca  sounds  with  rushing  feet; 

The  Road  to  Mecca  shines  to  eager  eyes. 

With  mumbled  prayers,  and  hearts  that  yearning 

beat, 

With  minds  that  longing  turn, 
With  brows  that  fevered  burn, 
The  patient  pilgrims  tread,  mid  tears  and  sighs, 
The  Road  to  Mecca. 


Submitted  by 

I    N.  W.  ARONSON    f 
I  AGENCY  1 



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